


Closest When We're Very Far Away

by GaeilgeRua



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Incest, Language, Multi, Posted with permission by rillalicious, Slash, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Written by rillalicious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaeilgeRua/pseuds/GaeilgeRua
Summary: Seven years after Hermione rode the dragon out of Gringotts with Harry and Ron, the Ministry has approved her petition to send someone to find it. That someone is Charlie Weasley.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the 2012 Charlie Ficathon on LiveJournal by rillalicious for me. I asked rillalicious for permission to post this story and they graciously said that I could. I honestly cannot thank them enough for this absolutely brilliant story and for letting me share it here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.
> 
> rillalicious's author notes: gaeilgerua, I hope you like this. I really, really, really loved writing it. You mentioned that you wanted plot, so I kind of ran with that. Thank you so much to my betas for your ability to put up with my incessant babble while I work these things out. And thank you to the outstanding mod for her tremendous patience!

Morning broke over the craggy mountains like a splash of milk, whitening the overcast sky, spreading outward with steady imprecision. The low-hanging clouds felt ominous, heavy, as if they were bearing down on her. Guilt sometimes felt like that, Hermione thought.   
  
"Hey-oh!" Charlie clapped her shoulder lightly and strolled out past her and onto the dewy grass, a thread-worn satchel swung over his shoulder. "You ready for this?"   
  
"You've asked me that three times this morning," she said, plucking up her own small bag from the front step of the cabin and following him along.   
  
"Yeah, well, Ron just stuck his head through into fireplace  _again_  to make sure I knew what I was getting you into. I'm only passing on the message." He shot a look at her back over his shoulder. He had this smile that lit across one side of his face, crooked and devilish.   
  
"You can tell Ron that it's been five years since I've had any obligation to give him explanations."  
  
"Tell him yourself. You'll probably see him again before I do," he said. It was true, she'd be back in London as soon as they found the dragon, and Charlie would be back here, in Romania. "Seriously, though, Hermione. I need you to realize we could get ourselves killed out there, doing this."   
  
"Honestly, Charlie. I'm hardly a stranger to nearly getting myself killed for a good cause. And this is certainly a good cause."   
  
"That's what I said, too." And the right side of his face lit up again. "All right. Let's get a move on, then. This dragon's not going to keep forever."   
  
"No," she said, and she slung her bag over her shoulder, "I suppose not."   
  
She caught up to Charlie and walked beside him down the path to the place where they'd find their portkey. The dragon--Ella, Charlie called her, because he said every dragon had a name, or needed one--had been missing for seven years. Hermione had been one of the last three people to see her. She and Ron and Harry had clung to that pale, broad, slippery-scaled back all the way from Gringotts to the wilderness, until they were flying low enough to drop into the water.   
  
She'd thought about it then, but only in passing: where had the dragon, mostly blind and completely dependent, gone after that? But there had been a dark army on the assault, and horcruxes to find, and the dragon faded into her periphery until some years later.   
  
When she heard mention of it again, she was working at the Ministry, untangling a legal nightmare for the Department of Magical Creatures. The sightings were rare at first, and quickly dismissed as superstition, or a trick of the light. But as they became more frequent, and Obliviators were sent to Muggle villages to alter the memories of farmers who had seen the dragon hobbling along the edge of their land, or travelers who claimed the dragon landed on the road right in front of them, it became impossible for the Ministry to ignore. 

It had been Hermione who recognized the description. Every sighting had been within thirty kilometres of the place they'd left that dragon and she knew deep down in her gut that it was the Gringotts dragon all those people had seen. That was how she found herself attached to the case.   
  
The portkey was a teapot, dull copper caked with mud around the handle, sticking up out of the grass at an odd angle.  
  
"Not exactly inconspicuous," she said.   
  
Charlie shrugged. "No one comes out this way." He checked his watch. "Forty-five seconds. Ready?"   
  
She took hold of the teapot's spout and braced her stomach.   
  
In another few seconds, they were gone. 

***

"If you want me to set up the tent..." Charlie trailed off when he turned around, one hand on the back of his neck. The tent was already standing, and Hermione had moved on to double-checking his wards. "Ah, right. All the camping. Ron told me about that."   
  
"Yes," she said. "All the camping." Her lips twisted, a kind of half-smirk of amusement. "Your cloaking charms are excellent."  
  
"They'd better be," he said. "Would've got myself burnt to a crisp otherwise."  
  
"Oh," she said. "Right."   
  
"Right," said Charlie, levitating large stones from the area into a ring to make a fire pit. "So... Heard you broke up with my brother."   
  
Hermione laughed. "Five years ago," she said.    
  
"You'll have to forgive me. Social skills are a little rusty these days. Only people I see on a regular basis are the other handlers and their expectations aren't all that high for niceties and whatnot."  
  
"It's all right," she said. "I often prefer the company of books to people."   
  
"So I've heard." Charlie cast the fire, then tucked his wand away, rubbing his hands together. "Getting chilly now that the sun's going down," he said.   
  
Hermione waved her wand once, with a precision he hadn't seen since taking Charms at Hogwarts, and a rush of warm air swept out from the fire.   
  
"Better," he said.   
  
"I'm not finished." She cast another charm and tiny, hovering blue flames lit up the camp all around them.  
  
"That's nice."   
  
"Thank you." She stood there for a minute, as if she was unsure what to do next, and then she said, "I'm going to change out of these clothes. They're filthy from traveling."   
  
"Ah, yeah," said Charlie. "I'll stay out of the tent then." He winked. "Why don't I get supper started out here?"  
  
"That's all right," she said, her brows turning in, as if she didn't quite trust him. "I can do it."  
  
"No, really," said Charlie, "despite all appearances otherwise, I'm a decent cook." He grinned. "Mum taught me and Bill before the twins made her give up on the idea of raising a brood of sons who can cook for themselves."   
  
"That explains Ron."   
  
Charlie snorted and watched her disappear into the tent.   
  
He was crouched over the fire when she reappeared sometime later, wrapped in a warm blue coat and grey scarf that wound once loosely around her neck.   
  
"Still cold?" he said over his shoulder, watching as she tucked her hands in her pocket upon her approach.   
  
"I haven't had the luxury of leaning over a cooking fire," she said. "That smells good, Charlie. Really... good."   
  
"You don't have to say it with such surprise, you know."  
  
"I'm sorry. It's not that I didn't expect you could cook--all right, I  _didn't_  expect you could cook. But I don't mean to insult you like that. I just--"  
  
"You like to do it all yourself," he said. "Because you do it the right way, and it wastes everyone else's time when you let them do it the wrong way first, then have to fix it. Sound about right?"   
  
She waited a breath before answering. "Something like that."   
  
Charlie began dishing food onto their plates. "Yeah, I've got an assistant at the research center, Cal. She's just like that, too. Keeps me honest most days, if you want to know the truth." He rose to his feet, ignoring the faint cracking sound his knees made (years of flying and landing too hard and fast, that) and handed her a plate.   
  
"Dinner is served," he said.  
  
Hermione examined the plate, then tucked her scarf down beneath her chin as she sat on the log. Charlie came to sit beside her.   
  
"I'll wait for you to start," he said. "That way I'll know if it's worth eating."  
  
She stabbed a bit of potato with her fork, then slowly raised it to her lips, casting him a sly look out of the corner of her eye as she tasted it. He knew he was a decent cook, but he'd spent years cooking for no one but himself and his coworkers in Romania.   
  
"It's excellent," she said, after swallowing. "I'm more than impressed, Charlie."   
  
Charlie beamed and set about eating his own meal.   
  
"So what made you take up this cause in the first place?" he said, after a long while. "Dragons are a bit removed from house-elves and hippogryffs."   
  
"Is there nothing Ron didn't tell you?" she said.   
  
"Probably a little," said Charlie. "But we've got plenty of time to find that out, don't we?"   
  
"I suppose. All right, well, ever since we freed her, I've worried about this dragon. She was kept in deplorable conditions, and she's blind... I know she's survived seven years out here, but it's really only a matter of time until something dreadful happens. I'd hate to see her destroyed after all she's been through already. I've been petitioning for years."  
  
"So I've heard," said Charlie. "And I appreciate that. I've wanted to go after her since day one, but getting Ministry approval... You know how that goes. It doesn't make sense, really, but when she basically disappeared into the ether for the first few years, the powers that be lost interest. I reckon they thought she'd died out there, and wasn't their problem anymore. And then it just became a mess of red tape and backlogged requests. You're the one who finally pushed it through. Thank you."   
  
"I did what I could," she said, looking at her plate, though her smile told him that she was pleased with his appreciation.    
  
"Well, when we get her back and she's safely at the sanctuary, she'll appreciate it as much as I do."   
  
"I'll look forward to that," she said, and she held his gaze for a moment, her dark eyes searching out his face, as if she were looking for something. He didn't know what it was, but he found himself wanting to give it to her.  
  
"Oh! Almost forgot." He finally broke eye contact and reached into his satchel, pulling out a dark bottle and two glasses wrapped carefully in tea towels. "Pants at cushioning charms," he said. "So I always add a little reinforcement."   
  
"You brought wine?"   
  
He frowned slightly. "You don't drink wine?"   
  
"Oh, of course I drink it. It just..." She looked around the camp. "Seems... out of place here. Somewhat."  
  
Charlie followed her gaze and shrugged. "Yeah, I reckon it is. I just thought it might make things a little more... comfortable. You know, first night out here and all? It's only going to get harder from here."  
  
"That was thoughtful," she said. "Thank you. But you should know that you don't have to worry about my delicate constitution."   
  
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I just--Aw, hell. I would've brought beer but I reckoned you'd think that lacked sophistication." 

Hermione laughed. "I dated  _Ron_ , Charlie. Sophistication is not a watermark for me."  
  
"Thought maybe you'd learned your lesson there," he said, and he uncorked the bottle. He started to pour, then felt a little sorry for what he'd just said. "You know I'm just taking the piss, yeah? About Ron, I mean. I give him shit, but I love him."   
  
She took a glass from him and nodded. "Of course I know that. He loves you, too. In spite of all the wretched things he's said about you."   
  
He opened his mouth to respond, but caught just a hint of a smile as she sipped her wine, and he smiled back. 

***

Charlie hadn't been exaggerating when he told her it was only going to get harder. The next morning saw them hiking at the onset of dawn, through rocky, uneven mountain passages and along the edge of sheer cliffs. They seemed to Hermione to be heading in entirely the wrong direction; this was nowhere near the last dragon sighting.   
  
By ten a.m., she could no longer hold her tongue.   
  
"You do have a map with you, don't you?" she said, hoping that she sounded merely curious.   
  
"Of course," said Charlie, but he made no move to reach for it, instead taking hold of a sapling with one hand and reaching back for her with the other, pulling her up over a loose pile of rocks.   
  
"Should we... consult it?" she said. Her hand felt so small in his, and he raised her to the higher path with ease, letting go a little too soon.  
  
"We could," he said, "but that wouldn't get us there any faster."   
  
"Get us where, exactly? You do know where we're going, don't you?"   
  
"I do."  
  
"Because the last time I looked at the map--"  
  
"Hermione." He stopped and turned to face her. "Trust me. I know where I'm going." 

"But you're not going to tell me?" 

He smiled, cocked his head at her as if she'd said something funny, and turned away. "You're going to have to see it for yourself," he said.   
  
"Charlie?"   
  
"What's that now, Hermione?"   
  
"We're still looking for the dragon, aren't we?"   
  
"Ella? Of course we are. S'our whole reason for being out here. Like I said, you've got to trust me on this one."   
  
Hermione pressed her lips together, but continued hiking behind him, deciding to focus on the winding dragon's tail that curled up from beneath his shirt, green and shimmering on his skin, and wrapped around the side of his neck. 

***

He paused when they reached their destination. There was a flutter of something low in his belly. Apprehension, maybe, or self-doubt. He turned his head, grinned at her over his shoulder. She pressed her lips together, her smile strained though there was something indulgent about it. He knew she thought this was a waste of time, this detour through unfriendly paths and over rough terrain. Maybe this would convince her otherwise.   
  
Using a slicing spell, he cut through the bramble that blocked the entrance to the shallow valley, then led her inside. Months had passed since he'd last been out here, but the timeless quality remained, as always. The green of this meadow was a different green than he'd seen anywhere else in Romania. It was a gentle, constant,  _old_  green. The color of wisdom, maybe. For Charlie, anyway. A stream wound through the meadow, curling like a blue ribbon, flanked by a rocky embankment.   
  
"We want to go over there," he said, pointing to a grove of beech trees just this side of the stream.   
  
She stepped through from the forest with reverence, as if the act of taking it all in was as sacred as a prayer. He watched her eyes as her gaze set across the landscape, committing every detail to memory. He knew that later she would question him about it all. There was something different about this place, something magical and special, though not even magical folk could put their finger on just what it was after visiting. She had pulled her hair back tightly this morning, but after the long walk, wisps of it had come free all over her head, and it caught the morning sunlight, creating an aura of deep gold that hovered around her.   
  
Charlie coughed into his hand and looked away. This place... It was like it was under a spell.   
  
"What are we doing here?" she said, walking beside him down the grassy slope.   
  
"Call it insurance," said Charlie. "Ella might be sick, she'll definitely be scared. She's lived a whole life of fear and torture, and then another life of scavenging and uncertainty. Our likelihood of getting burned is? Oh, I would say five hundred percent higher than if this were your run-of-the-mill escaped dragon scenario."   
  
"There's such thing as a run-of-the-mill escaped dragon scenario?"   
  
"Oh, yeah," said Charlie. "But if we're doing our jobs right, you never hear about them."  
  
They reached the grove and he found a beech with a dark, open hollow at the base. He lowered himself to one knee and Hermione followed suit. There was a tin in his satchel, oval-shaped and nondescript, and he pulled it out. Then he took his wand and cast a simple charm. The leaves on the trees above them shifted and rustled, coming together to form a dark green umbrella that blotted out the overhead sun.  
  
"You're not in class, you know," he said, glancing up at her without raising his head. "There won't be a test at the end of term."   
  
"I find this interesting," she said crisply, a slight pink rising to her cheeks as she spoke. "Besides, you've hardly given me a word of explanation since we arrived, and the curiosity is killing me."   
  
He opened the tin and set it on the ground. The scent of smoke and death wafted through the air all around them.   
  
"Ashes," she said. "From what?"   
  
"Bones," said Charlie. "Scorched by dragon fire." There was a flash of disgust across her expression, and he added, "Bones of the already deceased. They just have to be bones."   
  
He dipped his fingers into the tin, coating his fingertips in soot. "This is the only thing that'll draw them out," he said.   
  
"Draw what out?"  
  
"Just watch."   
  
Charlie placed his hand, palm down, on the knot at the root base of the tree. A tiny nose appeared from the hollow, then sharply pointed ears tilted forward. This one was chubby, its roly-poly body wobbling forward on short legs with inadequately small feet at the end. The dish brush tail curled in toward its backside. The creature skittered all the way out, climbing onto the back of his hand, then running up his arm and onto his shoulder.   
  
Hermione leaned to the side, her eyes following its movement. "What is it?" she asked.   
  
"He. He's a Long-Eared Moonshadow," said Charlie. "Generally nocturnal, hence the umbrella charm."  
  
"Are we taking him with us?"  
  
"No. He lives here. But he has something we want, and if we're nice enough," he stuck a hand in the satchel again, fishing around until he found what he was looking for, "he'll give it to us. In my bag, I stashed some of the bacon from breakfast. Get it out, put it on the flat of your palm and hold it out for him.   
  
She complied without a word, though he was certain he could see more than a thousand questions bubbling just below the surface. He had a feeling their walk back to base camp would be filled with Hermione picking his brain about Moonshadows and their idiosyncrasies. When she had the bacon on her hand, she held it out to the creature.  
  
"A little closer," he said. "And don't curl your fingers up. They have teeth like razors."  
  
She gasped and her hand trembled, but she moved it closer.  
  
"Did you forget to mention that  _before_  you had me rub bait on my body."   
  
The little part of Charlie's brain that knew where the filter to his mouth resided tried valiantly to fight what was surely a losing battle. The Moonshadow lunged for the bacon and Charlie spared a glance in her direction, looking her over in a way he hadn't allowed himself before. She'd still been "Ron's girl" in his head when she arrived, and even now he felt a little dirty for checking her out as if she'd never been with his brother at all; that feeling excited him just a little bit more. Charlie was no stranger to indulging in a little hedonistic pleasure, even if he had been trying to clean up his act in recent years.   
  
"So thick," Hermione said, her voice breathy, and the sound of it ran straight down Charlie's spine, made his cock twitch.   
  
It took him a few lust-murky seconds to realize that she referring to the Moonshadow's fur. The creature had crawled onto her palm and was sitting at the base of her wrist, hungrily snapping up the bacon from her hand.  
  
"What next?" she said.  
  
"Uh... right. Next." Charlie reached out and tucked a finger beneath the Moonshadow's chin, seeking out just the right spot and stroking gently.  
  
The Moonshadow reared up suddenly and hissed, and Hermione let out a little shriek of surprise, but kept her hand steady. Charlie withdrew his finger, the Moonshadow leaned down to lick the remnants of bacon grease from her hand, then it leapt to the ground and dashed back into the tree hollow.  
  
"That's it?" she said, her hand still outstretched.  
  
"Give it a minute." Charlie pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her hand clean. He was still holding it when something emerged from the tree.   
  
A large, pale blue egg surfaced from the hold and rolled the distance it took to reach Hermione's feet. Then, another egg, this one grey and speckled. The third egg was larger still, with a shimmering green surface and dark blue veins.  
  
"That's the thing," Charlie said, his focus now entirely on the hunt for the dragon. "What we've been waiting for."  
  
He picked up the third egg and examined it. Perfect condition.  
  
"Reckon you could conjure me a towel?" he asked.  
  
She conjured it absently, with that same textbook wave of her wand, and Charlie took it to wrap around the bottom of the egg.   
  
"That's a dragon egg," she said. "The Moonshadow had it?"  
  
"Yeah," said Charlie. "Egg hoarders, they are."   
  
"Where... Where would he get a dragon egg?"   
  
"Tunnels," said Charlie. "These little guys have tunnels that run all the way to Nepal and back."   
  
"That's impossible."  
  
"Maybe a slight exaggeration then. But they tunnel everywhere."  
  
"And steal eggs?"   
  
"Not the useful ones. The ones that were never going to hatch. Still smells like a dragon, though. Ella's blind. She'll seek it out by scent if we can get it close enough. Then I can get a good look at her to evaluate what kind of team we'll need to bring her in."   
  
"Remind me why it took the Ministry seven years to come to this conclusion?" she said dryly. 

The Moonshadow chattered and Hermione rubbed her knuckle over the soft fur between its ears. "You steal eggs," she said softly, "and hoard things? I think we should call you Templeton."   
  
"You're naming it?"   
  
"You name your dragons, don't you?"   
  
"True," said Charlie. "Templeton. Any reason for that?"  
  
"Children's story, from when I was very young," she said. "A Muggle book."  
  
"I see," said Charlie. He began carefully tucking the egg in his satchel.   
  
Hermione set the Moonshadow--Templeton--down and pulled out her wand.   
  
"Luckily for you," she said, "I'm  _not_  pants at cushioning charms. We wouldn't want to show up with a broken egg now, would we?"   
  
"No," said Charlie, and he buckled the strap on his bag. "We wouldn't."

***

 The next week was spent camping and waiting, scouting out all the places sightings of Ella had been reported, only for Charlie to discover that she was long gone when he took stock of all the signs. Instead of feeling frustrated, however, Hermione felt herself enjoying their mission more and more. Charlie's increasingly frequent flirtations probably had more to do with that than she wanted to admit. She had no business entertaining an attraction to Ron's brother. 

Last night after dinner, they'd been talking whilst he did the washing up (she'd insisted that he didn't have to do everything around the camp, but Charlie had been equally insistent that it drove him crazy to leave his hands idle for long), and when he'd finished, he had come to rest his hand on her shoulder, watching the fire from behind her, his thumb rubbing gently up and down the base of her neck. She knew it had been an unconscious touch because as soon as he became aware of it, he pulled his hand away. But she'd spent the rest of the night thinking about the warm ghost of his hand on her shoulder.  
  
She swallowed and turned her attention back to today's hike. "A week ago I don't know that I would have believed something so big could be so hard to find," said Hermione.   
  
"There's a reason they've lasted for so long," he said. "She's still got instincts, no matter what else the goblins beat out of her."   
  
When Charlie mentioned the goblins, it was with none of the hesitant respect she'd heard in Bill's voice. Charlie's tone was full of loathing and mistrust. From what she'd seen of the Gringotts dragon, she couldn't entirely blame him.   
  
A sound up ahead stopped them cold. Voices, and the rattle of chains. According to every map they'd consulted, there was no human habitation anywhere near here.  
  
"Poachers," Charlie said. "Fuck.  _Fuck_."  
  
"What are they doing here?"   
  
"We're not the only ones who read all those  _Quibbler_  reports about dragon sightings," he said. "They're coming this way. I reckon that means we've found another dead end. So that's the upside. The downside, however..."  
  
He reached down for her hand as the footsteps grew closer (and there were many of them, so many that they blended together into a low rumble), and he darted suddenly back up the path, pulling hard on her wrist.   
  
"Is that poachers are fucking  _dangerous_."  
  
Hermione ran after him, her ankle turning in on a loose rock. She hopped a few steps, then forced her foot to carry her weight, running full force up the mountain behind him. They scrambled up an embankment, coming to a flat path, and at the first sign of an open cave mouth, Charlie jerked her inside.   
  
A rock stood just inside the shadows, barely higher than Hermione's knee, but Charlie caught his shin on it,  _hard_ , as they raced inside.  
  
"Motherf--" He never reached the expletive; Hermione's hand was clamped over his mouth, silencing him, as they tumbled to the ground.   
  
She pinned him down with a knee to the chest so he couldn't protest, and pulled out her wand with her free hand, thanking every law on the wizarding books that she'd practiced casting spells with both hands until she was equally adept. She set a do-not-notice charm, and then a complicated ward, sealing them away from the world outside that cave.  
  
By the time the band of poachers passed through, cursing coarsely and issuing loud threats to the dragon they hoped to find, the cave itself was expertly hidden. Hermione exhaled and pulled her hand away from his mouth.  
  
"Fucker!" Charlie finished, drawing his knee up behind her. "God, that hurt."   
  
"I can well imagine," she said, crawling off him and sitting down beside him on the cold floor. If she'd spent another second straddling him, she would have lost her focus completely. "Let me see."   
  
Charlie sat up with a groan, rolling up the cuff of his trousers and showing her the angry, purpling bruise.   
  
"Oh, it's nothing," he said. "Caught my shinbone just right to make it hurt like fuck, but--whoa."   
  
In the time he was talking, she'd cast a spell to relieve the swelling and take a bit of the throbbing away.   
  
"That was good," he said, rubbing his hand over the spot. "Thanks."   
  
Hermione smiled. "Like you said, it wasn't that bad."   
  
He watched her for a moment, until she felt self-conscious enough to look away.   
  
"How's your ankle?" he said.   
  
She stretched out her leg and rolled her foot. "I think it will be all right," she said.   
  
"Let me see." He took it in her hand, rubbing his thumb gently over her ankle bone.  
  
"Mmm," she said. "It's just a little sore. I barely twisted it." She bit down on her bottom lip as he continued massaging her leg, a bit higher than her ankle now.   
  
He slid his hand up beneath her calf, and Hermione shuddered, unable to suppress it. His hands were incredible.   
  
"Charlie," she said quietly, "should we be... Is now really the time for this?"   
  
He looked up at her, his eyes dark with intensity. "We have to wait until they've passed, but... I'm sorry." He let go of her leg. "If you want me to stop."  
  
"No," she said, and she reached for his hand.   
  
Charlie smiled lopsidedly, took her chin with two fingers of his other hand, and guided her closer. His kiss was everything she had expected: gentle but insistent, slow but experienced. She reached up to touch his cheek and he let go of her hand, sliding his fingers up her arm. It felt as though they were in the Moonshadow's valley again, a place out of time, with no dragon to find, no menacing poachers lurking outside their wards, only Charlie's mouth on hers, his tongue pressing tentatively past her lips. 

She pulled back, looking from his eyes to his mouth, then back again.  
  
"They're probably gone by now," he said.  
  
"Okay." She licked her lips. They tasted like Charlie. "We... we should probably talk about this. After we find Ella."   
  
"That sounds... hopeful?"   
  
"Hopeful," Hermione agreed. "I like that." Her smile faded. "Do you think they'll find her before we do?"   
  
Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think they're going to find  _us_  before anyone finds Ella. It's the egg. If they've got dragon sensors, they'll know it's here. The Moonshadows have a musk that masks the eggs, but out in the open..." He shook his head.   
  
"Can't we use a spell? Or some kind of potion?"   
  
"Then Ella wouldn't be able to detect it, either. No, it's best that we destroy the egg."  
  
"No," Hermione said quickly. "We'll hide it. We'll mask its scent and hide it, just like Templeton did. Just in case."   
  
"Yeah," Charlie said. "Yeah, that's brilliant, actually."   
  
"Good," said Hermione, squaring her shoulders. The kiss had been perfectly lovely, but they had to focus on the business at hand. " _Then_  we can figure out how to get those poachers off Ella's trail."  

***

Hermione had been able to shift her attention back to the search for the dragon with such ease that Charlie found himself wondering if the kiss had occurred at all. He'd known this about her, that her tenacity to finish a project was unmatched, and he was glad of it, for both his sake and Ella's. She'd hidden the egg well, and they spent the next two days searching for the poachers, with Charlie growing restless over time lost from their original mission.  
  
They knew they were close when they reached the warm embers of a campfire. Hermione picked up and banished the poachers' strewn litter with disgust. Charlie searched for signs of the poachers trail. 

"Got it!" he said finally, relieved that they had a lead, though a sick seed of apprehension had taken root in his gut.   
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"We have to hurry. I think they're headed in the right direction this time. Or at least they've stopped pursuing the wrong one."  
  
They were a day behind, and that meant hiking through most of the night to catch up. He knew Hermione was exhausted, though she never complained, and by the time the sun came up, the pack on his back felt like lead. They'd stopped for breakfast at the edge of a glen, far enough into the forest growth that they were shielded from the open meadow. They ate cold cereal bars, avoiding any chance that the poachers would catch sight of smoke billowing from a fire. The poachers themselves had no reason to take the same precaution.   
  
Hermione spotted the fire first, off in the distance, where the meadow dipped into a valley.   
  
"Christ," Charlie murmured, shaking his head. "We're nearly back where we started from. Over the rise on the other side of that valley? That's where the Moonshadow clutch is burrowed."   
  
Hermione swung her bag over her shoulder and stood. "Then we should hurry," she said.   
  
"Right," said Charlie, and he stood to follow. Under his breath, he added, "Do we even  _have_  a plan yet?"   
  
The lack of a plan didn't deter Hermione, and they rounded on the far side of the valley, hoping to get ahead of the poachers, and possibly shield Ella from detection if they could find her first. Otherwise, they would try to get a good beat on the poachers so Charlie could call in reinforcements from the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau. What they hadn't expected (all the blame Charlie would place on his own shoulders later would start with this small oversight) was that the poachers were careless enough to leave their campfire burning when they left their campsite.   
  
Charlie had just stepped through a thick overgrowth of brush covering the trail proper when he found himself looking down on the band of poachers coming up the path. Luck seemed to be in short supply. He recognized one of them from a run-in they'd had in Romania six months previous.   
  
"We've got a problem here," the poacher--McGovern? Had that been his name--said to the man next to him, and suddenly there were wands at the ready everywhere.   
  
Charlie turned and shoved Hermione back through the bushes and off the trail, covering her back as they took the side of the hill that would lead up to the Moonshadows' meadow.   
  
"Hermione!" he called after her, but she was running as fast as she could manage up the steep incline, scrambling over rock and root.   
  
She stopped when she reached the apex and turned, shouting down to him, "Charlie, toss me your bag!"   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Just do it!"   
  
He could hear the poachers approaching, though they were still a decent distance behind, and he swung his arm hard, launching the bag up in her direction. It skidded along the rocks at her feet and she plunged her arm into it, feeling around until she pulled out the tin of ash.   
  
"Make a--" She had begun to shout, but caught herself, furrowing her brow. Then she began to look around wildly, until her gaze came to rest on a tall, crooked oak. She pointed up urgently.   
  
The nest was prominent, and Charlie spotted it at once. The poachers had reached the trail head, but he couldn't help smiling.

"You're brilliant," he called, and then he began searching for the most plausible spot on the side of the mountain to build a dragon's nest. The poachers would have to believe that it had been here all along.

He knew these guys weren't experts; they were in it for the quick and dirty profit, and they didn't care about the dragons enough to know their habitats. That was why they preyed on sanctuaries and preserves so often. It was easier than poaching in the wild. If these dragon sightings panned out, though, and Ella was the lost Gringotts dragon (and Charlie had no doubt she was), there was more at stake than the sale of outlawed dragon parts.   
  
It didn't take long to construct a reasonable facsimile of a nest, and the poachers were on the bend just below him on the mountainside when Hermione surfaced at the top of the path, sooty fingers clinging to a cement-colored egg. She smiled triumphantly, her whole face alight with the achievement, and hurried down the hill.   
  
"I think Templeton remembered me," she said.   
  
"Of course he did." He carefully took the egg and placed it in the nest.   
  
Hermione cast a warming charm, leaving the impression that a dragon had been there recently, and then cast a violent hex that blasted a path through the trees into the distance. The rough impression was that something had scared the mother away. The egg would throw them off; they would know it couldn't possibly belong to Ella and reckon that either they'd found the wrong dragon, or that someone had set them up.   
  
"Do you think they'll believe it?" she asked.   
  
"I don't know," he said, honestly. "I can't think of a better plan at the moment." He grabbed her hand. "We have to get out of here, now."   
  
She pulled her wand and slid her arm around his waist as he readied himself for Apparition. Instead of the spell however, the only sound she made was a gasped, "Oh!"   
  
They'd come out of the trees, nearly a dozen poachers.  
  
Charlie's " _Protego_!" fended off three spells, but not the one that struck Hermione from behind, knocking her forward. With one strong arm, he dragged her up against his body and hesitated for only a second. A dangerous, foolish second. Then he tamped down on it. Years had passed since he'd had any trouble with Apparition.   
  
Another spell narrowly missed his head and Hermione wound her arms around his neck, shooting off a hex from behind him. He held on tightly and Disapparated them.   
  
They reappeared on the sandy soil just outside Shell Cottage, and Hermione's grip loosened, but she didn't pull away.   
  
"All right?" he asked. Her arms went completely slack around his neck and she started to fall.   
  
He saw the blood as he started to lower her, soaked into his sleeve where his arm had been pressed against her side.   
  
"Shite!" He lowered her to the ground. It could have been the hex, or it could have been  _his_  fault. He pulled open her coat to find her shirt soaked through, the vibrant stain on the pale blue fabric rising and falling shallowly with her quick, panting breaths.  
  
"BILL!" Charlie bellowed, tearing off his coat and pressing it to her side. "FLEUR!"   
  
It took them so long to get there. So long. A lifetime had passed before he heard the door open, Bill's racing footfalls coming up the path. Her face was so pale.   
  
And then Bill was finally there. Bill, with an arm around Charlie and a low voice in Charlie's ear.  
  
"What happened?"   
  
"I--Poachers and it was... A hex or--I dunno. Splinching maybe." He felt like an idiot. He'd warned her about the danger, but he hadn't really thought that she'd get hurt. Not with him. He didn't let these things happen to the people on his watch. Not after Fred.   
  
"Who did the Apparition?" said Bill, and when he received no answer, "Charlie! Who did the Apparition."   
  
"I... I did."   
  
"All right," Bill said, and he conjured a stretcher. Charlie should have thought of that. Hadn't he done it a dozen times at the sanctuary? "Fleur saw all the blood from the window. She's making an emergency call to the nearest hospital. Let's get her inside."  
  
Charlie nodded and watched Bill levitate her onto the stretcher, then guide it to the house. As they passed through the door, Bill said, "You all right, mate? Is this shock or did you take a hex?"   
  
"I... Uh, didn't get hit," said Charlie.   
  
Everything went slow and fuzzy then, sounds all blending into a low constant ringing. Someone wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. A mediwitch stepped through the crackling green flames in the hearth and Fleur ushered her to the room where Bill had taken Hermione.  
  
He didn't know how long had passed, Fleur curling his fingers around warm cups of tea that went cold between his palms. It could have been the lack of sleep, or the fear that this had been his doing, but he could only sit there blankly, watching Bill and Fleur fuss around the kitchen, then disappear into Hermione's room.  
  
Charlie stood up, walked to the window, found that he couldn't see anything outside but that spot in the distance where Hermione's blood soaked the ground.  _Someone should clean that up,_  he thought.  _Can't just leave it there._  
  
When Fleur surfaced ahead of Bill, she didn't look Charlie in the eyes.   
  
"Charlie, mate, sit down," said Bill.  
  
_Fuck._  He shook his head no and braced one hand on the table.   
  
Bill frowned, but didn't push, only looked at the table as if he were concerned Charlie would break it. "Look," he said, "the hex they hit her with, it looks like it was supposed to be a pretty serious dark spell, but the wizard who shot it off was an amateur. The impact was minimal,  _but_  it's going to require some special care. We can't move her to St Mungo's right now because... Well, that's the other part. All that blood." He paused and pressed his lips together. "That was a splinching injury."  
  
"Fuck." This time out loud.  
  
"Charlie, you can't blame yourself. Anyone would've been under a fuck-ton of stress in that situation. You did the best you could, and you got the two of you out of there."  
  
Charlie ran a hand through his hair, fingers curling into a fist at the nape of his neck.   
  
"How long have you two..." Bill let the question trail off.   
  
"Been on the dragon's trail? A little over a week," said Charlie.  
  
"No, not that," Bill said. "I meant... You and Hermione." His gaze darted away.   
  
"We're not--We haven't been. I kissed her once, Bill. And I know I shouldn't do it again, so you can spare me the lecture."  
  
"It's fine." Bill was still looking at his feet.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Charlie, it's fine. Really. Ron, he just wants her to be happy. And I just want you to be happy." He caught Charlie's gaze as he spoke, his eyes all sincerity and hopefulness.   
  
After a moment, Charlie nodded. "Thanks, Bill. I don't know what's going to come of it. I'm in Romania, and she's... Well, fuck. She's unconscious in a bed in there because I fucked up."   
  
"She's going to get better," Bill said. "The mediwitch is very optimistic. She said she knows a healer who specializes in this sort of thing, reversing the effects of dark magic."  
  
"You said we can't move her," said Charlie.   
  
"I did." Bill smiled a little now. "But I'm not convinced that will be a problem. I'm going to have a little talk with the bloke, see if I can't talk him in to making a house call."  
  
"You know him, then?"  
  
"We all know him," Bill said. "In name, anyway. It's Draco Malfoy."


	2. Part Two

The waves were breaking hard and white-tipped on the rocks down the beach from Weasley's cottage when Draco arrived. The sky was grey, hanging low overhead, and Draco swore the cloud cover actually met with the sea somewhere off in the distance. He passed the house-elf's grave, pausing to see what it was at first, then shivering straight through to his bones when he realized. It made him want to leave before he even knocked at the door. It made his stomach clench, and his damnable conscience twitch.  
  
He wasn't sure why he'd let Bill Weasley talk him into this. The bloke was an expert negotiator, that much was clear. He'd appealed to Draco's sense of guilt, to the fact that he owed Potter (and thereby Potter's best friend) a life debt. And he'd been subtly threatening on top of it all. So Draco was here. And he would save Granger's life and be done with it.   
  
Then he rang the bell and Charlie Weasley answered the door.   
  
Draco had a vague memory of having seen Charlie at Hogwarts years ago, after Voldemort fell, but he'd been one of a sea of red heads at the time, and Draco hadn't given him notice. Today, Charlie was standing in the doorway, his hair wet, presumably from the shower, and the look of excited relief on his face almost infectious. Bill had given Draco strict orders to refrain from mentioning who was at fault for the splinching in front of Charlie. One look at Charlie had Draco convinced it wouldn't be a problem.   
  
"Come on in," said Charlie, stepping aside. His smile faded, and it made the exhaustion more apparant.  
  
Draco cleared his throat, deciding for civility over sarcasm. No sense in beating a man already down. Where was the fun in that?   
  
"Thank you," he said. "I suppose we all know why I'm here."   
  
"Hallo, Healer Malfoy." Bill sounded ridiculously pleased with himself as he looked up from his breakfast table.   
  
"Weasley," said Draco. "Charming home you have." He turned a smile on Bill's wife. "Hello, Fleur."   
  
She nodded courteously. "'ermione is in ze guest room. I can take you zere."   
  
"It's okay, Fleur," said Charlie. "I'll do it. Follow me."   
  
"Has she come around at all?" Draco asked. He only had the mediwitch's notes to go on.  
  
"No," said Charlie. "I've been with her most of the time. That's bad, isn't it?"  
  
"It depends on which hex she took. I should be able to figure that out without much trouble."   
  
Charlie paused outside the door. "Interesting specialty," he said, and some skepticism was clear in his voice. "Reversing dark spells."   
  
The urge to touch his shirt, trace over the place where faded scars sliced across his chest, was always present when someone asked about his line of work. Once again, Draco denied himself.   
  
"You could say I had a vested interest," he said.   
  
Charlie opened the door and led him inside. "I feel like I should whisper now or something. Even though I know she can't hear me."   
  
Draco set his bag down beside the bed. "And what makes you think that?" he said.   
  
"I don't... I guess I don't know."   
  
The first diagnostic spell gave Draco minimal information, but the second was more troubling.  
  
"Her ability to do magic has been compromised," he said. "I'll have to do more testing to be sure, but if it's the hex I think it was, its purpose was to leave her unable to do magic at all for an extended period of time."   
  
"But she'll get it back?"   
  
"Of course," Draco said, glancing up over his shoulder. "She has an excellent healer."  
  
Charlie grinned and scrubbed a hand over his scalp. "Guess I'll leave her in your hands for a while, then."  
  
"Go," said Draco. "Feed yourself, and for Merlin's sake get some rest. You look awful."  
  
"I suppose I do," said Charlie. "Thanks, Healer Malfoy."  
  
"It's Draco. Please. Formalities are unnecessary."  
  
"All right, then. Thanks, Draco. Let me know if I can get you anything."   
  
"Food. And sleep. For you. Now  _go_."  
  
Charlie chuckled as he left, and Draco made sure he got a good look at Charlie's arse on his way out of the room. Perhaps sticking around for a few more days wouldn't be a total hardship.  


***

  
When Hermione opened her eyes, the room around her was silent, everything illuminated in dark blue from the slant of moonlight that fell through the open window. At first, she thought the silhouette she saw there was one person. Then she became aware of the sound of two men breathing, one with short and fast inhalations, as if fighting off some deeper impulse, and the other breathing long and slow, soothingly.   
  
Charlie's head was bent and pressed against Bill's chest. Bill was curled around him, hands moving over Charlie's back, head tipped down so his face was pressed into Charlie's hair. Charlie clung to Bill, in a way that made her feel like a voyeur, as if she were catching so intimate a moment between them that she should be ashamed. She heard the soft release of Bill's lips as he kissed Charlie's forehead and pulled back.   
  
"All right now?" Bill asked in a whisper.   
  
Charlie nodded, but pulled Bill closer. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend she hadn't woken at all.  
  
"I'm not leaving," said Bill.   
  
Charlie was quiet, his profile a shadow against the window pane, and he gazed up at Bill, looking lost. So lost.  


"Charlie," she murmured, when she couldn't maintain the silence any longer.  
  
Both men pulled away, and Charlie rushed to her side.   
  
"I'll get Malfoy." Bill's voice, gravelly. It must have been the middle of the night.  
  
"Malfoy?" Hermione said, confused.  
  
"No," said Charlie. "I'll get him. In a minute. Bill, could you..."  
  
"Yeah. Of course." Bill nodded. "Glad you're up, Hermione."   
  
"Thank you," she said. When he'd closed the door behind him, she continued, "Malfoy is a healer. He's... here for me?"   
  
"Yeah," said Charlie. "He's an expert in reversing dark hexes. You got hit with a nasty one."   
  
"I can feel that," she said, and she shifted on the pillows, frowning.   
  
"There's something else," said Charlie.   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"When I... When I Disapparated us... You splinched. That's... That's what hurts."   
  
"Oh." She touched a hand to her side, felt the bandages there. "Thank you."   
  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  
  
"No, Charlie. I mean that sincerely. Thank you. After they hit me, I couldn't do magic. I tried one hex and it felt like... It took everything out of me. We would have never got away if you hadn't Disapparated us."   
  
He stared at his hands, thoughtful. She reached out and took one, tugged him down to sit on the bed beside her.   
  
"How long has it been?" she asked.   
  
"Three days," he said.   
  
"The poachers--"  
  
"I've been keeping an eye out for any reports that might indicate they found her. Nothing yet. But I've got to get out there soon."  
  
Hermione nodded. She wanted to correct him, remind him that  _they_  had to get out there soon, but there would be time for that in the morning. He was so tired. She smiled slightly.  
  
"I apologize if I woke at an inopportune moment," she said.   
  
"Inopportune? I've been waiting for you to wake up for days, Hermione. I was... I'm just glad you're up."   
  
Her smile widened, but she decided to press the issue. "I felt like I was interrupting something."   
  
"Uh..." Charlie swallowed. "You mean between me and Bill?"   
  
"Yes," she said, and though she didn't really mean it, "You don't have to tell me about it if you're uncomfortable."  
  
"No," said Charlie. "I mean... Yeah, you're probably going to think I'm a total freak, but I should probably explain what you saw. Me and Bill, uh... during the war... You know I was out in Romania recruiting. It was fucking scary sometimes, I won't lie to you. There were Death Eaters everywhere, and you never knew who they were until they were drawing their wands. But I didn't want to complain to anyone, not when they were all out on the front lines. Bill would come see me and... I don't get scared that often." He snorted. "Bill used to tell me I got sorted into Gryffindor because I was too bloody dumb to know when to be scared.  


"Anyway, there was one time, it had been bad that day, bloody awful. And Bill just... He made it better. I know. I  _know_. He's my brother and that shouldn't've happened, but it did and... I think he needed it as much as I did. I mean, we always had each other. Always. And then we didn't, and you realize a lot of things when that happens. You don't take it for granted anymore. Greyback got to him right after that. Scared me shitless when I heard. And I just... didn't want to let go."   
  
Hermione nodded. "I don't have any siblings," she said. "So I can't begin to understand what that must be like, but... I'm not judging you for it, Charlie. You or Bill. I only wish I would have known that the two of you were--"  
  
"Not anymore," he said quickly. "Not for years now. It didn't last after the wedding. Fleur was brilliant about everything, she was so understanding, but it just wasn't the same. We tried once after he was married; Bill, Fleur and me, but... They're so much in love, you know? It was too awkward. And besides, we're adults now, and there's no war on. I don't know that either one of us need it anymore."  
  
Something inside her, far behind the scar on her side, gave a small leap of jealousy at the thought that Fleur had seen that part of Charlie, that vulnerable, needy part of him that Hermione had only heard about and seen in shadowy darkness. She wondered what was wrong with her that she wanted him  _more_  because of this.  
  
"But tonight," she said. "I saw..."  
  
He met her gaze. "I thought you were going to die because of what I did to you. I wasn't exactly coping with it all that well." One corner of his mouth quirked up. "Malfoy kept threatening to have me put under observation. Thought I was having a nervous breakdown or something."   
  
"How long has Draco been here?" she asked.   
  
"The whole three days."  
  
"And he hasn't left?"  
  
"No. Not at all."   
  
"Really," she said thoughtfully. Why on earth would Malfoy stick around to take care of  _her_? It was true they had been civil to each other the last few times they'd met, but she couldn't imagine this was where he wanted to be.   
  
"He's not as bad as Ron used to say he was," Charlie said after a while. "People change, you know?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said. "I suppose they do. Charlie... About what happened in the cave. I don't have any expectations. I realize the circumstances are extraordinary, and we live in different worlds."  
  
"Why don't we talk about it in the morning? You're tired."  
  
"I'm not the only one. Have you slept at all, Charlie?"  
  
"I will now."   
  
"Good." She closed her eyes. She  _was_  tired.   
  
His lips were on hers before she even knew he was moving closer. By the time she was looking at him again, he was standing beside the bed.   
  
"I'm glad you're awake, Hermione," he said. "Really glad."   
  
Then he left the room.

 

***

  
Though Charlie hadn't slept well in days, he was up at dawn. Gringotts was sending Bill back to Egypt to run a three week training course for new cursebreakers, and Charlie wanted to see him off. He was holding on to a strong cup of tea, wishing it was the coffee he'd grown use to at the sanctuary, and sitting at the table when Draco walked into the kitchen.   
  
"I thought I told you to get some rest. Granger's going to be fine. Go back to bed, Charlie."  
  
Charlie grinned. "Thought you'd heard already. I don't take direction well."   


"So I've noticed," said Draco, pulling a mug out of the cabinet and sighing discontentedly as he started to make a cup of tea. "It's perfectly insane that they don't keep coffee around this place. They're out in the middle of nowhere, for Merlin's sake."  
  
"Don't look at me," said Charlie. "Sanctuary's in the middle of nowhere and I've got a full pot brewing at all times." He sipped his tea. "Is she awake, then?" He nodded toward Hermione's room.  
  
"No, I was just standing in there watching her sleep." Draco put the kettle on and turned around. "Yes, she's awake. She can't do magic for an extended period of time, and needs to be kept under observation."   
  
"All right," Charlie said. "Is that something I can do?"   
  
"Medical observation," Draco corrected. "It's something  _I_  can do."  
  
"So you want to take her back to St Mungo's."   
  
"Not exactly. It's a bit... soon after her splinching incident to transport her. She needs to stay here."   
  
"Uh huh," Charlie said, smiling a little now as he sipped his tea. "And you're having so much fun here that you're just going to hang around for a while and keep an eye on her?"   
  
Draco gave him a long look, one Charlie couldn't entirely read, but it made him shift his weight in his seat and look away.   
  
"It's not the most terrible place I've ever stayed," said Draco.   


"Good to hear," Charlie said.   


"And apparently the Ministry thinks Granger's wellbeing is important enough that they're willing to give St Mungo's a little... incentive to let me stay here for a while."   
  
"I see. Always covering their arses, that lot."   
  
Draco snorted. "When it comes to keeping Potter and his sidekicks comfortable, absolutely."   
  
"That's one way to look at it," said Charlie. He got to his feet. It wasn't that he wanted Draco to stop looking at him like that, but that he reckoned he  _ought to_  want him to stop. That was a good enough sign for Charlie that it was time to check in on Hermione. "If you'll excuse me for a minute."   
  
He left his mug in the sink and walked to her room, pausing at the door. She wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but he had to say it. He pushed open the door and stuck his head inside first.  
  
"Hey."  
  
She smiled, the corners of her mouth trembling as she pushed herself upright a little more.   
  
"Good morning," she said.  
  
"How're you feeling?"   
  
"Not as terrible as before."   
  
"That's good news."  
  
"And you have bad news," she said, smoothing the blankets over her lap.  
  
"What makes you say that?"   


"I've spent two weeks in a tent with you, Charlie Weasley. You don't fidget like that unless I'm going to be unhappy with whatever it is you're about to tell me."  
  
"Right," Charlie said, and he tucked his thumbs in his belt loops. "Well, it's been almost four days now. I don't think they've found her yet, but they're going to, unless--"  
  
"Unless you're there to stop them?"  
  
"Uh, yeah."   
  
"Charlie, can't the Ministry send someone more..."  
  
"Official?" he said. "Like the Aurors? Problem is, they haven't committed a crime yet. It's the loophole that the black market for dragon parts depends on. As long as they don't get caught in the act, nothing can be done."  
  
"And it's your job to catch them?"  
  
"Doesn't say so in my contract, but that's about right."  
  
"But you can't go by yourself. I've seen how dangerous they are. Can't they send someone to help you?"  


"Hermione, if anyone knows how underfunded and overworked the Dragon Bureau is, it's you. It's taken us seven years to get the Ministry to send  _two_  people to find Ella. I should have had a team out there in the first place, but it's not going to happen."  
  
"What about Bill?"  
  
"He's spending the next three weeks in Egypt."  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"He can't just up and leave his job for an indefinite period of time," said Charlie.  
  
"Then I'll have to come with you."   
  
"No, you won't." The voice was Draco's, and he stood in the doorway, squinting into the dark room at them. "You're not going anywhere just yet, Granger. We already had this discussion."   
  
"He can't go back by himself. Even you have to be able to see that, Draco."   
  
"Then he won't," said Draco. "I'll go with him."  
  
"What?" Charlie turned around. "You need to stay here and take care of Hermione."  
  
"She needs potions twice a day, and someone to take her vitals in the evening. Fleur can handle that for one day. Unless you're saying you can't get your job done in twenty-four hours." There was a challenge in his voice that Charlie didn't think had anything to do with the dragon.  
  
Amused, he decided to prompt Draco for more. "We've been out there two weeks with no luck."   
  
"No luck finding the dragon," said Draco. "But that's not the problem anymore. You've got time to find the dragon. You need to get rid of the poachers."  
  
"The two of you against a dozen of them?" said Hermione. "That's insanity."   
  
"Your imagination lacks scope, Granger," said Draco. "We don't have to confront them at all. As Charlie said, we only have to catch them in the act." His face was all devious intent. "They don't even have to find the dragon."  
  
Charlie grinned slowly. "That's... a plan that could work. Entrapment. We catch them poaching, and it's the Ministry's problem whether they like it or not."   
  
"You'll be careful," said Hermione, and he noticed she was twisting the covers between her fingers.  
  
"Of course," said Charlie. "Twenty-four hours. Maybe less if we get lucky."  
  
"Luck is going to have nothing to do with it," said Draco. "Because I am  _not_  sleeping in a tent." He turned away and left the room.  
  
Hermione shook her head, but smiled. "I'd feel safer if you could get Harry or Ron to come with you. If it's only for one day."   
  
"What we're about to do isn't strictly legal, Hermione. It's best to keep the Aurors out of it. Even if one of them is my brother."  
  
"All right. But if you're not back in twenty-four hours, I'm coming after you."   
  
Charlie leaned over the bed. "Best incentive I have to get back here on time. I'm not letting anything else happen to you on my watch."   
  
He kissed the corner of her mouth, his lips lingering there for just a moment. They were supposed to talk about this, whatever it was, but he wasn't ready for that yet. He needed to know the dragon was safe, that  _Hermione_  was safe, before he could even think about what came next. 

 

***

  
"Shouldn't you have... a machete or something to get through this forest?" Draco said, following Charlie up the wooded path and dodging the branches that snapped back toward his face. The hike was at least bearable from this perspective, with a clear view of Charlie's perfect arse and broad shoulders up ahead of him.   
  
"It's not a jungle, mate," Charlie said over his shoulder. "Just a few overgrown trees here and there. Besides, we've got wands if it gets bad. Take it you're not the outdoorsy sort?"  
  
"No," Draco said, his mouth curling downward as he narrowly ducked beneath a rather thorny branch. "I am not the 'outdoorsy' sort. I prefer civilization."   
  
"I prefer dragons to people."   
  
"Really? I was starting to think you preferred Granger to people," said Draco, and he knew it was a bit over the line, but he didn't really regret it. Instead of getting angry, however, Charlie ignored the dig.   
  
"What makes you say that?"   
  
"Oh, I don't know. The way you rush to her bedside every time she sighs, maybe. Attentive boyfriend that you are."   
  
"Hermione's not my girlfriend," Charlie said, though he mumbled the words.   
  
"But you want her to be?"   
  
"I dunno. Maybe. If that's what she wants." Charlie rubbed the back of his neck, and Draco watched as the tip of a green tail (the end of what was presumably a dragon tattoo) twitched from side to side beneath his fingers.   
  
"That's an ambiguous answer," Draco said. He found some measure of pleasure at hearing it. He'd been certain they were a couple.   
  
"Listen," said Charlie, "I just want to deal with these poachers. Then we can worry about your analysis of my love life. All right?"   
  
"I'll be looking forward to it," said Draco.   


After walking for what felt like most of the day, they stopped in a patch of forest that looked exactly like rest of the forest they had been hiking endlessly. Charlie dropped to his knees and cleared away some leaves, revealing what looked like fresher dirt than the rest. Then he started to dig.  
  
"Wouldn't a digging utensil make that easier?"  
  
"Nah, it's not deep," said Charlie, and he was right. Not far below the surface lay a hard, round object, and as Charlie brushed away the dirt, Draco could see a dragon's egg clearly.  
  
"Hermione hid it here," Charlie said, pulling the egg from its hiding place and casting  _finite incantatum_. "Brilliant, that girl."   
  
Draco wasn't sure what was particularly brilliant about burying an egg in the forest, but he wasn't about to say so. Charlie set the egg aside and reached into his bag. His hands were still filthy from digging, crescents of black visible beneath his short nails, and though Draco would have found it repulsive on anyone else, somehow on Charlie it was fitting.  
  
Charlie pulled out two brooms and enlarged them, handing one to Draco. "You fly?"   
  
Draco snorted. "I made Seeker my second year."   
  
"Oh yeah?" said Charlie. "Me too." He mounted his broom. "Here's how we're going to do this. You'll distract them at their camp. I need to fly in close and plant the egg, set off their magical sensors. I'm taking the liberty of labeling this egg with a Ministry registry number. That means as soon as those poachers have it in their possession, they've broken the law and the Dragon Bureau can track them wherever they go. Then we'll need to get the hell out of here, fast."  
  
Draco climbed onto his own broom, hovering just above the ground. "Is there a reason you and Granger didn't do things this way in the first place?"   
  
"We weren't expecting to run into poachers out here. There aren't a whole lot of dragons in this territory, not enough to make it worth their while. Besides, it was your idea."   
  
"And they say your girlfriend is supposed to be the brilliant one."  
  
"I told you. She's not my girlfriend."   
  
"Oh yeah?" Draco swooped in close to Charlie then, hovering right in front of him and giving him a long, intense look. "If that's really true, after all this is over, I'll give you a chance to prove it." Then he patted Charlie's hand as it rested on the egg and took off over the treetops.   
  
He knew it had probably been an inopportune moment for a proposition, but Draco liked to make an impression.   
  
The treeline was high near the poachers' camp, and it gave Draco cover enough to circle around fairly close to the fire before he landed in the woods and hid the broom behind a tree. He coughed into his hand in an attempt to make his voice sound gruffer. This was the problematic part of the plan, because no matter what he was wearing, Draco knew he looked like a man who had no business hiking through the forest.  
  
"Excuse me," he called out, approaching the camp. "Any of you gents know the way to the lake? I think I may have passed the same tree six times back there."   
  
He counted quickly: Fourteen. And they were all looking at them, a few of them standing near a tent and laughing. The ones sitting around the fire weren't smiling. One of the men, a burly wizard with a narrow black beard and thick eyebrows, rose to his feet.   
  
"Are you Ministry?" he said. "You're supposed to identify yourself as Ministry if you are."  
  
"Erm, no. I don't work for the Ministry. I'm a... healer."  _Original._    
  
The big wizard looked over at one of the others and huffed. "I don't think we get many healers hiking out this way."  
  
"Clearly not," said Draco, wrinkling his nose as he noticed one man sitting by the fire, his poorly bandaged hand dangling limply from his wrist.  
  
"As a matter of fact," said the big wizard, "Darius is in need of a healer right about now."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw a flash of wand coming from the outside of the circle. It was hidden away quickly. _Charlie, where the hell are you?_    
  
"I suppose I could recommend someone," he said slowly.  
  
"That's not what we had in mind." The wizard started closing in on him now. "See, we're going to need a healer who's not going to talk about what he's seen here today."   
  
Draco took a step back, then jumped as a siren started shrieking in the background.   
  
"Lathe!" A small blond wizard popped out from the tent (that made fifteen, though Draco wasn't sure what good counting did at this point) and started rushing toward them. "We've got something nearby."   
  
"I  _know_  what the alarm means," said Lathe, his menacing eyes still fixed on Draco. "Send four men to check it out. I'm just about to take care of some business."   


Draco stepped back again, and this time collided with someone who hadn't been there a moment ago.  
  
"Sorry that took me so long," Charlie said breathlessly, and he tugged hard on Draco's shirt. "Get on."  
  
"What the hell's going on?" Lathe had his wand drawn now.  
  
Draco, still stunned by how badly this had all gone off-plan, barely managed to mount the broom behind Charlie and they were soaring. He clamped one arm around Charlie's chest, the other around his stomach, and held on tightly as they darted above the trees. A flash of light whipped past his head and he looked behind them.  
  
"They have brooms," Draco said.  
  
Charlie banked hard to the left. "Of course they have brooms," he called back. "You can't take down a dragon from the ground."   
  
They were headed for a heavily wooded area, and Charlie wasn't pulling up. Draco saw the small gap between branches and pressed his forehead to Charlie's back. He couldn't actually be flying  _toward_  that, could he?  
  
The sound of thin branches snapping and a tunnel of leaves rustling in a long whir past Draco's ears answered that question. When they skidded to a stop, Draco's legs were shaking.   
  
"Fuck," he hissed, dismounting and grabbing his wand as the poachers came crashing through the trees and landing with significantly less grace than Charlie.   
  
There were four of them.   
  
"This is good," Charlie murmured. "Means the rest went after the egg."  
  
"Four against two. Fantastic," said Draco. And then they were dueling, Draco and Charlie forced on the defensive by a brutal volley of spells.   
  
Draco recognized the spell that hit Granger (cast just as ineptly this time), and he aimed for that wizard's legs, hitting his mark and smirking a little as the poacher collapsed. The other three were faster and stronger, though, and Draco found that they were losing ground fast. One spell nearly hit Charlie's shoulder and Draco was only able to shield him from the next by sacrificing his own protection, and he threw himself to the ground to avoid a flash of green light.   
  
The next light to illuminate the forest was blue, the blast so strong it burst into white as all three poachers crumpled.   
  
Granger stood behind them, panting hard, swaying on her feet.   
  
"Hermione!" Charlie started to run for her.  
  
She looked from Draco to Charlie, gave them a little half smile, then fell backward.  


***

  
Hermione's eyes had hardly opened and already she heard Draco Malfoy's voice reverberating through her aching head.  
  
"What did I tell you about expending magical energy?"   
  
She squeezed her eyes shut a little tighter. "What did I tell the two of you about getting into trouble?"   
  
"You told  _him_  to avoid it," said Draco. "You said nothing to me. And if you had been there, you would have seen that I was the one in direct danger."   
  
Hermione opened one eye, then the other. "Honestly," she said.   
  
Charlie held up his hands, palms out. "I was just rescuing him. That's all."   
  
She sighed and opened the other eye. "In that case, it appears I rescued both of you. I'll let you come up with a way to thank me later."   
  
"Who said anything about thanking you?" said Draco. "You were foolish enough to use a portkey--God only knows how you got permission for  _that_ , though I would assume Potter had a hand in it--and cast a spell you did not have the magical reserves to support. You've added weeks to my workload, Granger."  
  
"As if I would believe you intend to stay here for weeks," she said.   
  
"I didn't intend to," said Draco. "The Ministry, on the other hand, finds your continued recovery imperative. I'm on an official leave of absence from the hospital."   
  
"Oh," said Hermione, and she frowned. She hadn't meant to cause this much trouble. Sometimes she forgot that she was no longer a teenager, her actions only accountable to Harry and Ron.   
  
"Fleur is going to spend the next couple of weeks with Bill in Egypt," said Charlie. "I reckon the place got a little bit too crowded for her."  
  
"And you're going after the dragon?"  
  
Charlie rubbed the back of his neck, and he looked between Hermione and Draco. "I've accumulated a decent amount of leave time," he said. "I thought maybe I'd cash some of it in, make sure everything is all right here before I head out again. Ella's a resourceful girl. She'll keep. Ministry's got the poachers in custody now."   
  
Hermione smiled. "The egg trick worked."  
  
"Just barely," said Charlie. "In spite of what Draco thinks about it," Draco snorted at that, "if you hadn't shown up when you did, and one of those blokes had gone back to warn the others that it was a set up, we never would have caught them. The Aurors found loads of illegal equipment on them, the charges are pretty steep."   
  
"I can't say I entirely approve of that," she said. "I would much rather have seen them caught through all the proper legal channels, but seeing as they  _were_  intending to capture a dragon, I'm not sorry it happened this way."   
  
"I'm not losing any sleep over it," said Draco. "Speaking of which, I've lost entirely too much sleep because of your impulsive behavior, Granger. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to catch up."   


It didn't escape Hermione's notice that Charlie seemed to relax when Draco left the room.   
  
"I should let you get some more rest, too," he said, walking over to her bedside now and pulling up the blanket around her.   
  
"I'd like to argue with that, but I'm afraid I'm in no shape to do so."   
  
"You took a big risk coming after us."  
  
"It's a good thing I did."  
  
"I'm not arguing with that. You're lucky Draco was there to bring you back. Don't know what I would have done if I had to risk splinching you again."   
  
"That was an accident, Charlie. Stop beating yourself up about it."  
  
His cheeks reddened, making his freckles stand out pale in comparison, and he leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.   
  
"Get some rest, Hermione. No more getting out of bed, yeah? You've got two sets of eyes on you now."   
  
Then he winked, and left. Hermione smiled to herself, snuggled down beneath the blankets, and drifted into a sound sleep.

 

***

  
Charlie flicked his wand lazily and lit a lone candle in a sconce on the kitchen wall, just enough light to make his way to the table. He was too restless to sit, so he stood over the table, tracing a map of the hills from memory with the tip of his finger. He was okay with not going back just yet, with staying here for Hermione, but there was a cold stone of dread settling in his stomach. Draco's flirting was harmless, at least it seemed harmless, but... Charlie wondered if he shouldn't be flirting back quite so much.   


He felt like he owed Hermione some degree of loyalty, even though they'd never technically set parameters on this relationship. Which made it something other than a relationship, he reasoned. The other part of it, the part that troubled him deeply, was that he didn't want to stop flirting with Draco.  
  
A second later, Draco's breath was on the back of his neck and Charlie's arms went stiff and tense in front of him.   
  
"What did I tell you about proper rest?" Draco said, his voice a low drawl.  
  
"If you haven't noticed by now, I feel the same way about sleep that you seem to feel about personal space. S'not necessary."   
  
"I see." Draco didn't move away, and Charlie couldn't straighten up without pressing back against him, so he stayed hunched over the table. "That's some tattoo." Draco pressed the tip of his finger to the base of Charlie's neck, where Charlie could feel the light tickle of the dragon's waving tail.   
  
"Thanks," said Charlie, as casually as he could manage. "Bloke who does my ink in Romania is dead brilliant."  
  
"You've got more than one?"   
  
"Oh, I've got several," said Charlie. "The others aren't exactly visible in decent clothing."   
  
Draco curled his finger into the back of Charlie's collar and tugged down on it a little. "Yeah?"   
  
"Draco." Charlie turned around with the intention to tell him that was far enough, but Charlie's hips were pressed against Draco's then, and Draco was looking at him like he wanted to  _devour_  Charlie, and any previous restraint was entirely spent.   
  
He fisted his hands in Draco's hair, dragged him in close, paused just long enough to watch that unbearably self-satisfied smirk turn the corner of Draco's mouth. Then Charlie kissed him, roughly, grinning as Draco let out a gasp of surprise. Charlie slid one hand through Draco's hair, cradling the back of Draco's head, and he grabbed the front of Draco's shirt with the other, falling back onto the table and bringing Draco down on top of him.   
  
"Thought you were  _never_  going to do that," Draco said, breathing hard against Charlie's lips. He slid his hands up Charlie's sides, beneath his shirt, and Charlie arched against him on instinct. "Fuck. You want it bad, don't you?"   
  
"Shut up, Draco," Charlie said, and he hooked one leg around the back of Draco's knee. But it was Draco's tongue that silenced Charlie, and Charlie slid against him, groping and tasting and  _aching_  for it.   
  
Draco reached behind himself, closing his hand around Charlie's wrist, then pushing it up above Charlie's head on the table. His kisses were hard and eager and fuck, he knew what he was doing. Charlie let go of Draco's shirt, throwing his other arm up above him, swallowing Draco's warm laughter in his kiss. Charlie was hard as fuck and he'd been so goddamned uptight lately. He needed this badly.   
  
That was when Draco stopped moving above him. The kiss lost momentum, slowed, and then stopped.   
  
"Fucking hell," Draco said softly.  
  
"What is it?" Charlie said, though he had a feeling he already knew.   
  
"Only my recently developed and wholly undesired conscience," Draco said, and he pulled back enough to gaze down on Charlie. "You want Granger."  
  
Charlie turned his head to the side, breathing hard, his arms still stretched above him, Draco's hands still loosely holding his wrists.   
  
"What if I don't know what I want?"   
  
" _Charlie_ ," Draco said, and his lips grazed the corner of Charlie's mouth as he pulled away and stood.   
  
"Fuck." Charlie ran a hand over his hair and closed his eyes.   
  
"Yeah, no. Not tonight, anyway. Get some sleep, Charlie."  
  
"Right." Charlie laughed. "That's going to happen."   
  
"Then have a good wank first," Draco said, pausing in the doorway. "That's what I plan to do."  
  
When he was gone, Charlie sat up on the table, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand. He needed to figure out what the hell he wanted.   
  
" _This_  is why I usually stick to dragons," he said aloud. Maybe he needed to be out there on the trail after all.


	3. Part Three

It had been four days since Draco's stunning act of selflessness, since he'd left a wanton, gorgeous Charlie Weasley sprawled across the kitchen table and somehow managed to restrain himself. For Granger's sake. There was a time when he would have thought nothing of taking Charlie right then and there and rubbing it in Granger's face in the morning. Somewhere along the line, and he didn't quite remember when, he'd acquired a moral compass. It must have been his compensation for becoming a healer; he spent so many hours doing good things for other people every day that he'd internalized it.  
  
And what did it get him? Front row tickets to watch Charlie flirting with and fussing over Granger every chance he got. He could tell by the way Charlie avoided eye contact with Draco that Charlie still wanted him, but that almost made it worse. That meant he was  _choosing_  Granger.   
  
Draco didn't get turned down, not even by exceptional blokes like Charlie. And especially not for women like Granger. Sure, she'd grown into that mess of hair, and she wasn't nearly as obnoxious as she had been, but anyone could see she was uptight as all hell, probably just laden with sexual repression. Not that he'd find that hot. Because he didn't. Not at all. And he certainly didn't understand why Charlie did. He couldn't seem to remind himself of that often enough.   
  
Charlie was outside smoking a cigarette when Draco found him early in the evening.   
  
"Granger know you do that?" said Draco, taking the pack from Charlie's hand and tapping it on his palm before pulling one out.  
  
"S'only once in a while," said Charlie. "Stress relief. Doesn't bother the dragons."   
  
"Ah." Draco lit his with the tip of his wand and inhaled deeply. "Personally, I prefer gin."   
  
"And I prefer to stay sober around a hungry, angry reptile the size of a house."   
  
"Point taken." Draco took another drag, looking out over the water in the distance with Charlie. "So what stress do you need to relieve? You're not still worried about Granger's condition, are you?"   
  
"What? No. No, of course not. She's got the best healer in England working on her. That's what you keep telling me, right?"   
  
"Only because it's true. Missing your dragon, then?"  
  
"No," said Charlie. "S'not that."  
  
Draco threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the toe of his boot, though he'd barely smoked it at all. He turned to face Charlie, leaning his shoulder against the side of the cottage. "Then what?"   
  
Charlie rolled his head to the side, looked Draco in the eye. "This."   


"Then let me help you with that." He didn't give Charlie time to respond, instead pressing him back against the cottage wall.  
  
Charlie's body was all hard muscle and heat, and when Draco kissed him it was as good as that first night, hunger and need and impatience. Charlie's hand was on his arse, squeezing roughly as he ground against Draco, his erection thick and insistent against Draco's thigh.   
  
Draco jerked open Charlie's trousers with ease, and Charlie returned the favor one-handed, shoving his hand inside and getting hold of Draco's cock first. Draco's tongue traced a path around Charlie's lips as his knees buckled, and he slipped his hand inside Charlie's pants, pulling his erection up and rubbing it. Charlie whimpered into Draco's mouth and Draco bucked up into his hand.  _Merlin fuck_.   
  
This was better than he'd expected. Charlie's hips were shifting back and forth unevenly, his breath coming in hot gasps through messy, frantic kisses. Draco wanted to feel Charlie's come all over his hand, to shoot his own load into Charlie's fist, and he almost couldn't wait for it.   
  
Then, a few more hard strokes and Charlie was coming, Draco not far behind him when he heard his name breaking over Charlie's lips. 

  
"Fuck," Charlie breathed, panting. "Fuck. Where did that come from?"  
  
"I decided nobility is overrated." Draco removed his hand gingerly, wiping it on the inside of Charlie's trousers.   
  
With a groan, Charlie pushed him away, then did the same with his own hand before tucking himself back in.   
  
"This can't... This can't be a thing that we do," he said.  
  
"It's a little late to make that rule, don't you think?" Draco said.   
  
Charlie looked at Draco, helplessness all over his face. "I've got no fuckin' clue," he said, then he left Draco standing alone as the air began to grow cold.   
  
The smoke from Charlie's cigarette, now abandoned on the ground, coiled upward, occasionally interrupted by the light breeze, sending up puffs of smoke like a distress signal.

 

***

  
It was nearly two weeks into her recuperation before Draco finally allowed Hermione her wand, and even then only for limited magical therapy sessions. She was itching to get out of the bed and  _do_  something.   
  
"I know how to hold a wand," she said, her grip tightening as Draco closed his hand over hers.   
  
"And if the spell has enough kick that it knocks you off your feet, which is entirely possible at this point,  _I_  don't want to be in the line of fire. I'm not patronizing you, Hermione. It's all in the name of self-preservation."   
  
Hermione pressed her lips together, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye, but didn't argue. To her astonishment, she'd found herself rarely arguing with Draco at all over the past weeks. In fact, she'd even describe the situation as tolerable. Oh, he'd been his usual caustic, critical self, but he'd also been civil, and at times even compassionate. Some days she wanted to ask who he was, and what he'd done with the Draco Malfoy she thought she knew.   
  
"Now, start with something simple," said Draco.   
  
"Right. Simple," Hermione said. Her natural inclination was to try a more difficult spell, to see just how much of a recovery her magical abilities had made, but she knew Draco was right. She should start slowly. With his hand over hers, she flicked her wrist. " _Nox_."  
  
The room went dark.  
  
She exhaled in relief and let her head fall back. She'd forgotten how good magic felt.  
  
"Not bad," said Draco. "You're a better student than I remember."   
  
"I was an excellent student at Hogwarts," she said.   
  
"Not from where I sat, with your hand flying into the air every three seconds, like you thought the teacher would forget who you were if you didn't keep up the steady stream of obnoxious."   
  
"You weren't such a charmer yourself, you know," she said.   
  
"No," he said, "I suppose I wasn't. Though I think your hero worship of Potter blinded you to my good qualities."   
  
"You called me 'mudblood' and ridiculed my friends mercilessly," she said. " _That's_  what blinded me to your good qualities."   
  
"If you want to split hairs," said Draco. He was still holding her hand on the wand, though his grip had slackened. "I suppose that incident was over the line. I'm sure you know I don't... think that way any longer."  
  
"I dared to hope that would be the case," she said. "You've actually been... quite pleasant these last few weeks, Draco."   
  
"You've been rather tolerable yourself," he said. "For the most part."   
  
"I'm glad to hear it."  
  
"Hermione?"  


"Yes?"  
  
"Are we going to spend the rest of the evening standing here in the dark and marveling over our new-found solicitude toward one another, or are you going to turn on the lights again?"   
  
"I take it all back," she said, laughing. "You're a hopeless prat.  _Lumos._ " When the room brightened again, Charlie was standing in the doorway.  
  
"You're doing magic," he said, and his grin was broad, though his eyes were focused on her wand and not her face.   
  
"I am," she said. "And I don't feel drained in the slightest. I think I'm ready to move on to something stronger."   
  
"Good," said Charlie. "That's an improvement. right?"  
  
"From not doing magic at all? Of course," said Draco.   
  
He had let go of her wrist, and Hermione seized the opportunity to transfigure a picture frame into a teapot all on her own.   
  
"I can't believe it," she said. "I'm starting to feel normal again."  
  
Draco snorted and opened his mouth.  
  
"Choose your next words carefully," she said, grinning as she eyed him. "You don't want to forget that I'm armed now."   
  
With a sigh, Draco pressed his lips together, as if it physically hurt him to let the moment pass without comment. Charlie laughed.   
  
"I'd wager that she's going to be the one calling all the shots around here from now on," he said.   
  
"Merlin help us all," said Draco.   
  
"I'm saying," said Charlie.  
  
"You two are very funny," Hermione said. "Really." She looked to Draco. "So, are we done here? I'm healed now, aren't I?"  
  
In a flash, all of the warmth and  _light_  that had been apparent on Draco's face went cold and closed, the lines on his forehead coming into sharp relief as he frowned. "I'll need to run a few follow-up tests, but I suppose in another day or two I can finally be rid of you. Or you can be rid of me. However you prefer to look at it."  


"I... don't look at it like that at all," she said. It was as if she could feel the temperature in the room drop with Draco's mood.  
  
Charlie was looking studiously at his feet. After a moment, he glanced up. "I should probably start dinner, then. Something to celebrate, yeah? S'not every day a witch gets her magic back after an incident like that." He licked his lips, cleared his throat, then disappeared from the doorway.   
  
Draco stood there, staring at the place Charlie had just been for a moment, then snapped his medical bag shut with a loud click and snatched it up off the bed.  
  
"It looks as though congratulations are in order, Granger. Another two days and you'll have everything you want to yourself again."   
  
He didn't leave her time to ask what he'd meant. Before she could blink again, he was out the door and down the hall. And suddenly it all made sense: Charlie's discomfort every time she and Draco were in the room together, the strange tension between them when she'd find the two of them alone. Draco  _wanted_  Charlie.  
  
She had a feeling the sentiment was mutual.  


***

   
Draco and Hermione were waiting for him in the sitting room when Charlie got out of the shower. He'd told them he needed to speak with them about something important, then had lost his nerve and decided that ten minutes under a stream of warm water might bolster his courage. Or at least buy him some time. It had only been a few weeks, but he was already so comfortable living here with the two of them that he couldn't imagine sliding back into his old life just yet. The three of them, alone in this house, even if his  _want_  for them was threatening to make him crazy felt good. Like it was supposed to be.  
  
He walked into the room but didn't sit down.  
  
"What's going on?" said Hermione. "Is everything all right?"   
  
Charlie worked over the fingers on his right hand with his left, shifting his weight from foot to foot as they waited for him to speak.   
  
"I, uh, heard from the Ministry," he said. "They're shutting down funding for the search in three days. I have to find Ella by then, or we don't find her at all."  


"That's terrible," said Hermione. "I thought they had suspended funding until we could resume the search. Why the sudden hurry?"  
  
"My guess is that they want to reallocate the money, but they can't do that while it's in limbo, waiting for us to get back on the job. I..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm leaving in the morning. First thing. I have to find her before the window of opportunity closes."   
  
"All right," said Hermione. "We leave in the morning."   
  
"Hermione--"  
  
"I'm  _fine_ , Charlie. Ask Draco. He's headed back to London tomorrow anyway. It's not as though I need anyone to look after me anymore."   
  
Charlie could hardly even look at Draco without wanting to throw him up against the wall and snog the ever-loving fuck out of him. At least he could take Hermione on the road with him .  
  
"All right," he said. "We'll leave in the morning."  
  
"Splendid," said Draco, speaking for the first time since Charlie had entered the room. He didn't even try to hide the bitterness in his voice. "You make a lovely dragon-hunting couple. I'm sure things will go swimmingly."   
  
He stood and tried to push past, but Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled him back.   
  
"No one asked you to leave, Draco," he said, his grip tightening a bit at the thought of Draco actually  _leaving_. "You came up with that idea all on your own."  
  
"Pardon me for aspiring to keep the job that pays my bills," Draco said.   
  
"They had no problem letting you go for weeks on end before today," said Charlie.   
  
"That was with good reason," Draco snapped. "She said it herself, she's better now."   
  
"You're both being ridiculous," Hermione said.   
  
They turned together to look at her.   
  
"Don't treat me like a fool," she continued. "As if I don't know what's going on here."   
  
"What do you think is going on here?" Charlie said, sounding far more guilty than he intended, his grip loosening on Draco's upper arm.  
  
Hermione stood, and though he knew it was totally inappropriate given the situation, his eyes were drawn to the boots she was wearing, so different than anything he'd seen her wearing out on the trail. They were black, high-heeled and rising over her jeans to mid-calf, bronze buckles fastening leather straps in a neat row down the front. She was taller in them, predatory almost, and Charlie found the ability to think rationally draining from him.   
  
"What I think," she said, walking toward him now, "is that you and Draco have a lot of pent-up... tension."   
  
She reached out and took hold of the front of his soft flannel shirt, her fingers sliding into the space between buttonholes. He felt just the slightest tremor in her hand, the only sign that she was nervous at all. Draco swallowed so hard the motion was visible in Charlie's peripheral vision.  


"And I think you're holding back because of me," she said.  
  
"You hold yourself in high regard, don't you, Granger?" said Draco.   
  
Hermione didn't take her eyes off Charlie, but she smiled. "Perhaps," she said. Her fingertip slid down a bare patch of skin beneath his shirt and his stomach tightened.   
  
"What are you saying, Hermione?" Charlie said, as casually as he could manage. His hand still rested on Draco's arm, searing hot where they touched.   
  
"What I'm saying," she flicked open the button, "is that if it were up to me, you wouldn't have to choose."   
  
Her gaze swept over to Draco, who stood in stunned silence for a moment, then said, "That's unfair."   
  
"What's unfair about it?" she said.   
  
"It makes the decision entirely yours, doesn't it?" said Draco. "If I say I want Charlie to myself, I'm the selfish prick who ruined everything, and I lose. If I say I want to share him with you, I'm giving you what you want."  


"Unless you want the same thing that I want. Do you want Charlie all to yourself, Draco?"   
  
"Not necessarily  _all_  to myself, I suppose."   
  
"Then you do want the same thing that I want. What about what Charlie wants?"   
  
Draco's voice took on an edge. "I think we've all seen what Charlie wants."   
  
Charlie exhaled suddenly, remembering that he was still in the room and not watching this conversation from afar.   
  
"I want both of you," he said, and he tightened his grip on Draco's shirt. "I... I'm sorry."  
  
Hermione pressed a finger to his lips. "Why?"   
  
_Because_... He had no answer for that, so instead he jerked Draco up against him, then dodged around her fingertip as he leaned in to kiss her. Draco's hands were at his belt buckle within seconds, and Charlie rocked his hips, urging Draco to go faster. Hermione had already opened every button on his shirt, and her hands were cool and small against his chest.   
  
"Fuck," he whispered, and then Draco had hold of his cock and Hermione was shoving his shirt off his shoulders.   
  
"Finally," Draco said, the smirk evident in his voice, but Charlie couldn't see his face because he was bending down, lowering himself to his knees, and then his mouth was on the tip of Charlie's cock and it was fucking  _perfect_.  
  
"Oh my God," Hermione said, wrapping herself around Charlie's side, grinding against his hip as her breasts pressed against his chest through the thin fabric of her blouse. She was watching Draco, her hips moving in rhythm with Draco's head as she slid her arms around Charlie's shoulders.   
  
He was shocked that he'd managed to remain standing with the two of them all over him like this, and he threaded his fingers into Draco's hair, tugging just enough, urging Draco to take more of him in. He pushed one hand up beneath Hermione's blouse, beneath her bra, the pad of his thumb seeking out her nipple and circling it. Draco had reached out to hook two fingers in her belt loop and pull her against Charlie.   
  
"Christ," Charlie breathed. "Fuck. Bedroom... Or... something else... Now."   
  
Draco pulled off and sat back on his heels. "Very articulate."   
  
"Go fuck yourself," said Charlie, then he chuckled.   
  
"Thank you, no," said Draco, his hand sliding up and down Charlie's shaft. "Bedroom." He pulled at the bottom of Charlie's trousers, and Charlie tried to tug his foot free, when Hermione pulled away with a sigh.  
  
"Boys," she said, and she waved her wand, banishing what was left of Charlie's clothing to a neat pile on the couch. With a wicked gleam in her eye, she did the same to Draco, who inhaled sharply at the sudden change in temperature. Charlie took in the pattern of thin, raised scars on Draco's chest, wanting to trace them with his tongue. There were so many things he wanted to do to both of them.   
  
She raised the wand once more, but Charlie grabbed her wrist and said, "No." His gaze darted down to the boots again. "No. We're undressing you."   
  
Charlie stumbled to the bedroom between them. He couldn't stop touching them, reaching out for them, and once they were inside, he was only barely aware of Hermione expanding the bed as Draco pushed him down onto his back. The urgency he'd felt with Draco that day, pressed up against the back of the cottage, was as much a driving force here as the slow-built attraction to Hermione, and he could hardly decide where to put his hands first.   
  
The dragon's tail must have curled around his throat, because Draco reached down to rub his thumb over it. Charlie swallowed against the pressure, moaning softly.   
  
"Did it hurt?" Hermione asked.   
  
"A hell of a lot less than some of these burns," he said.   
  
Draco's gaze drifted to another visible tattoo. High on Charlie's right shoulder sat a golden ball, just above a shiny flat burn scar.   
  
"This one doesn't move?" said Hermione, and she reached out to trace its outline with her fingertips. Just as she did, the Snitch's wings began to flutter and it took off suddenly. Hermione's eyes darted back and forth as she watched the Snitch zip from side to side across Charlie's torso.   
  
For the first time since he'd got the thing, Charlie felt a little bashful about it. "You're, uh, supposed to chase it," he said, as it skittered down his stomach, then up the underside of his cock.   
  
Draco snorted. "So you're already predisposed to sex with Seekers, is what you're telling us?"   
  
Charlie shrugged. "Something like that. It, uh... was a good idea at the time. In my younger days."   
  
"It's... endearing," said Hermione, suppressing a smile. She reached for it suddenly, but it faded away before she could touch it, reappearing on his right shoulder. "Oh!"   
  
Draco grinned and slid onto the bed beside Charlie, his hand grazing over Charlie's skin skillfully until his palm flattened over the snitch, just below Charlie's navel. Charlie shuddered and closed his eyes.   
  
"Feel good?" Draco asked, his voice husky.   
  
"So fucking good," Charlie murmured, "you've got no idea."   
  
Something pressed into the mattress beside his head, and Charlie opened his eyes to see Hermione's high heeled boot there. He licked his lips as his gaze raked up her body.   
  
"I'm still dressed," she said.   
  
"Oh fuck. Not for long," said Charlie.   
  
Draco's mouth was on his chest now, pressing slow kisses all the way down, and Charlie reached up to begin the slow process of unbuckling her boot one strap at a time. When he finished the first one, he looked up at her face as she slid her foot out slowly.   
  
"God." Charlie ran his hand up the back of her calf as she unbuttoned her jeans, Draco's open-mouthed kisses trailing down the juncture of his thigh. "I'm not gonna last. The two of you are killing me."   
  
"Oh, you'll last," said Draco, taking a hard grip at the base of Charlie's cock. He swirled his tongue around the head. "I'll take it slow." And true to that promise, his lips slid down the length of Charlie's hard-on with painstaking restraint.   
  
"Oh,  _fuck_."   
  
Hermione was still peeling off her clothes beside him, unzipping the other boot from the back and kicking it aside, then shimmying out of her jeans and knickers. As she started to unbutton her blouse, Charlie reached out, sliding his hand between her legs, two fingers slipping into that slick, wet heat easily. She moaned and her head fell back.   
  
"All right," said Draco, pulling off breathlessly. "That was a  _lot_  hotter than I'd imagined it."   
  
"The feeling's mutual," Hermione said, the words fading into a little whimper.   
  
"Draco." Charlie tugged on Draco's hair. "Up here, babe. Let me return the favor. Want her to ride my cock whilst I suck you off."   
  
"Yeah," Draco said. "Fuck,  _yeah_." And he stroked Charlie a few more times before crawling up to kneel by his head.   
  
Hermione climbed onto the bed, straddling Charlie. She raised her wand and cast a succession of spells, some Charlie recognized and several he didn't, all to protect from every imaginable unwanted side effect of sex. Beside him, Draco snorted, but didn't comment as he stroked himself slowly. Charlie grinned up at Hermione.  
  
"Merlin, you're beautiful," he said. With one finger, he traced the jagged path of the splinching scar up her side. "I did this," he said penitently.  
  
"You saved my life," she said. "I can live with a scar."   
  
She smiled, her face alight with lust and anticipation, and rubbed herself against him. She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth and everything in Charlie's field of vision blurred as she took his cock, sliding it against her (he didn't think he'd ever felt a woman this wet and ready for him), and the tip of Draco's prick rubbed against the corner of his mouth.   
  
Charlie growled, opening his mouth and turning his head, Draco pushing into him at the same time Hermione slid down him and--  
  
"Fuck, Charlie," Draco said, rocking forward and down and deep into Charlie's mouth. "I've never seen anyone want it like this."   
  
Charlie tightened his lips around Draco's cock, sucked  _hard_ , and Draco gasped. Hermione took one of Charlie's hands as she rode him, pressing it to her breast, and he pinched her nipple between his fingertips, bucking his hips up off the bed, trying to feel  _everything_  inside her. He wanted to tell her how fucking tight she was, how he didn't think he'd ever been fucked like this before, but the weight of Draco's stiff cock on his tongue, the feeling of it hitting the back of his throat again and again, was addictive, and he couldn't let go.   
  
He tightened his grip on Hermione's breast, bringing the other hand to his mouth, sliding one finger in alongside Draco's cock, covering it thickly with saliva before reaching between Draco's legs and pushing up and into his hole.   


"Merlin _fuck_ , Charlie!" Draco hissed, his body clenching around Charlie's finger as he fucked Charlie's mouth at a brutal pace. "You're a wanton little whore, aren't you? Oh,  _fuck_."  
  
Hermione's nails were on Charlie's chest then, digging in hard, and he could picture the angry red trails they left in his skin. The sounds Draco made were maddening, gorgeous, and then they were muffled and Charlie looked up, forced his vision to focus, to see that Hermione had pulled Draco in, her mouth pressed hard against his, and that was all it took.   


Charlie crooked his finger inside Draco, his whole body taut and trembling, and as he started to come, he felt Hermione shudder violently. She was still clinging to Draco, kissing him long and deeply, and Charlie reached down to hold her hips, to rock up into her a few more times as he finished, Draco's cock pushing against the back of his throat. He pulled off with a heaving breath, one hand closing around the base of Draco's cock, stroking hard and fast, urgent in his desire to feel Draco coming  _now_.   
  
Draco broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to Hermione's as he stared down intently, watching Charlie's hand on his prick, and Charlie grinned breathlessly, his lips still tingling and slightly numb, as Draco shot all over his chest.  
  
" _Oh_." Hermione was rubbing Draco's back and toying with Charlie's hair and still rocking on his cock.   
  
"Yeah," Charlie breathed. "Fuck, yeah." He felt as though he could melt entirely into the mattress and just  _dissolve_.   
  
Draco lay down first, stretching out long and cat-like in the bed. Hermione slid off him reluctantly, Charlie in the middle as he wrapped his arms around them.   
  
"That," she began, but Draco cut her off.  
  
"Must we?" he said. "This was good. Tomorrow is going to be ridiculously long. Let it be for now."  
  
Hermione exhaled and pressed her face to the curve of Charlie's neck. Charlie kissed her forehead and drew his knuckles down her cheek. He turned his head, catching Draco's lips with his own.  
  
Tomorrow the world would be back to normal. Tonight, (maybe only tonight, but he didn't have to worry about that just yet)  he had this, and it was brilliant.  


***

  
Draco stood up slowly in front of the tent, brushing the dirt and leaves and Merlin knew what else from his knees. Camping. He was camping. Apparently fantastic sex could ply him to do anything. He never would have imagined that Hermione had it in her. Not that he was complaining.   
  
"Hey, look at you," Charlie said, pushing the tent flap out of the way as he came outside. "Manual labor and everything."   
  
"Apparently even magic can't drive tent pegs through rocks," Draco said, scowling as he tugged on the rope to make sure the tent fly was secure.   


"Imagine that," said Charlie.  
  
Hermione finished warding the area and walked over to the tent. "If that doesn't keep a dragon out, at the very least it will alert us that she's found us," she said.   
  
"That's comforting," said Draco. "That I'll know when my death by trampling is imminent."   
  
"She's not going to trample you, Draco," said Hermione.   
  
"Of course you'd say that. You're a sympathizer. You've  _ridden_  her."   
  
Charlie laughed, a deep, relaxed sound that Draco had only heard for the first time last night.  
  
"No one's getting trampled," Charlie said. "Thanks to our friends the poachers, we know where Ella  _hasn't_  been, which narrows the field considerably. They actually did quite a bit of the legwork for us. Hermione's Arithmancy covered the rest."  
  
He pulled a map from his satchel and unrolled it. "See that red line there? We're at the trailhead now. Out of all the possible nesting grounds left, I think the cliffs at the end of this trail are our best bet. She's avoided detection for a long time now, but she must be running out of food if these sightings are getting so frequent."   
  
"So what you're saying," said Hermione, "is that by tomorrow morning, we may have found her?"   
  
"With a little luck, yeah," said Charlie.   
  
"Excellent," said Draco. "One night of 'roughing it' is plenty for me."   
  
Charlie rolled the map up slowly, giving Draco a long look.  
  
"We'll see how you feel about that after you've had it rough," he murmured, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips as he disappeared back into the tent.   
  
Draco looked at Hermione for a few beats, then they both followed Charlie inside.  


***

 

Hermione had suggested they see Templeton again, and perhaps convince him to relinquish another egg from his collection, but Draco claimed an iron-clad aversion to rodents, and Charlie felt that another excursion to the Moonshadows' meadow would only slow them down. If Ella had been spooked by the poachers, it would take more than a dragon's egg to draw her out of hiding. Instead, they bought two goats from a farmer Charlie knew in Romania, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt as they took the animals with them on what was essentially a death march.  
  
"A pity we don't have any virgins to offer up," Draco said, giving her a sidelong look as he walked past. "It might make this all go faster."   
  
"That's an old wives' tale," said Charlie. "And it's how you catch unicorns, not dragons."  
  
"Look at that, this trip has been educational already," Draco said.   
  
"Hush," said Hermione. "We're trying  _not_  to scare her off, remember?"   
  
"How about whoever manages to stay quiet the longest gets to play 'catch the Snitch' later on?" said Charlie, smirking back over his shoulder.   
  
Draco licked his lips, his eyes going wide and excited for a moment, and quickened his pace. Hermione rolled her eyes, but she smiled and jogged to catch up.   
  
They walked for a couple of hours, stopping for a brief meal on the trail. Charlie's fireside cooking skills seemed to impress Draco as much as they'd impressed Hermione. Her calves were aching by the time they reached the edge of a high ridge. The slopes down below were jagged and intimidating, and she was about to ask exactly how Charlie planned to get down to the base when he held out his arms, pushing Hermione and Draco back a step.   
  
"Lookit that," he said softly. "Down there. Do you see that?" A thin plume of smoke fluttered up from a deep, cavernous gulf between two rocky outcroppings.   
  
"Do you think it's her?" Hermione asked.   
  
"It looks like... smoke," said Draco. "Can you really tell what it's coming from?" 

  
"That's Ironbelly smoke," said Charlie. "Believe me, I recognize it."  
  
"So what do we do now?" said Draco.  
  
Charlie hadn't taken his eyes off the dark expanse between the rocks. "We go down and see her for ourselves.  _Then_  we call the Bureau."  
  
Hermione swallowed hard, nodded, then followed behind Charlie and in front of Draco as they started to forge their own narrow, winding path along the edge of the ridge. She lost count of how many times her shoe skidded off the side, knocking rocks and loose dirt into the valley below.   
  
"Is there a reason we're not flying?" Draco said, after they'd made frustratingly little progress. "You brought the brooms, didn't you?"   
  
"You're going to land on  _that_?" Charlie said, gesturing toward the sharp rocks jutting upward from each side of the break. "She knows what she's doing, hiding herself down there. She can't see danger coming, but by the time it reaches her," he'd stepped down to a low ledge now, flattening himself against the wall as he edged his way across, "she'll know it's there."   
  
Hermione looked at Draco over her shoulder. He'd paled, and was shifting from foot to foot as if he were contemplating a quick escape. She gave him a pointed look, making clear he'd better not try it, then lowered herself down to follow Charlie along. There was hardly anything to hold onto, and her fingers slipped and slid along the flat rock. She kept her eyes trained on the back of Charlie's neck as she followed him along, and after a short time, they were close enough that the scent of smoke burned her nostrils, and a low, long roar rumbled through her.   
  
Charlie stopped moving and looked down and behind him.   
  
"There she is," he said, and he sounded slightly breathless.   
  
Hermione turned and craned her neck, peering down the crevice, then gasping when a pair of glowing eyes surfaced from the shadows. Instinctively, she tried to move back, but there was nowhere to go, pinned there between the two of them and the ledge started to crumble beneath her as she scraped her foot across it for purchase.   
  
"Hermione!" Draco had her wrist, but no way to gain leverage, and when she slipped, she fell straight down, dropping like a stone.   
  
She could hear the rocky ground crumbling and tumbling beneath her, the roar of the dragon over Charlie's shout, and feel the scorching heat as a thick spout of flames rose up just behind her. When she finally stopped falling it was because her knees had dragged her to a halt where the rock wall curved slightly just before dropping into Ella's nesting cavern. Hermione clung to the ground, panting.  
  
Her knees stung and burned, but she couldn't even look at the damage. The smoke was so thick that she had to squeeze her eyes shut, involuntary tears springing to their corners as she scooted forward and crouched against the wall.   
  
Somewhere above her, Draco yelled to Charlie, "Can we fly  _now_?" And the answer must have been "yes" because then Charlie was yelling to her to hang on, and she wondered what else on earth he thought she was going to do just now. She pulled the front of her jacket up over her mouth, trying to breath through it and filter out the smoky air, but her lungs started to hurt and she coughed.   
  
She shoved her hand into the inner pocket of her jacket, relieved when she found her wand still present and intact, and pulled it out, casting a charm to part the smoke in a long tunnel so she could breathe again. She opened her eyes, blinked a few times and rose to her feet, biting her lip as she reached down to start plucking pebbles and twigs from her bare skin where her jeans had torn.   
  
"Hermione," Charlie called out, and his voice sounded like a warning.   
  
She straightened up, at first wondering why he sounded so far away, then realizing the smoke had dissipated outside the ring of her charm. She turned around slowly, swallowing when she saw Ella crawling up onto the shallow ledge, nostrils flaring. Hermione backed against the wall, wand held in a trembling hand. Behind Ella she was vaguely aware of Draco and Charlie flying, looking for an opening to swoop in and grab her, but Charlie had been right; Ella had chosen her home well, and they were protected on all sides. Protected and trapped.   
  
Hermione licked her lips. The low roar coming from the dragon's belly was a steady sound, not escalating. The dragon's eyes still gave the appearance of glowing, but there was no more seething anger there. Ella snorted. Hermione took a step forward. Ella didn't move.   
  
Charlie was hovering now, just off to the side behind Ella's head, though Hermione didn't spare more than a cursory glance in his direction. She was mesmerized by the dragon. She took another step forward and Ella's head dropped suddenly.   
  
Hermione froze, but the dragon shuffled forward a bit on her belly.   
  
"Hallo," Hermione said soothingly. "Do you remember me?"  
  
Ella snorted again, moved closer. There was a huge, pale grey scar on Ella's right shoulder, and Hermione wondered if it had been poachers, or something else. It hadn't been there seven years ago. Slowly, she tucked her wand into her pocket and extended her hand.   
  
They moved toward one another, the world in slow motion, until Hermione's hand landed on the scaly expanse between Ella's nostrils. Ella made a sound, a low, melodic song, then let out a cry so loud that Hermione jumped back.   
  
Ella flapped her great wings once, crouched down, then pushed off the cliffside and took flight, circling the crevice. Charlie darted after her and Draco flew fast straight toward Hermione, his feet barely skidding across the ground as he slowed enough that she could climb on behind him. She clung to his back as they took flight, pressing her face against his back until they'd landed on solid ground.   
  
"Don't say I never learned anything from you and Potter at Hogwarts," he said, helping her off the broom.   
  
Hermione immediately lowered herself to the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest.   
  
"Move your hands," Draco said, his expression going serious as he pulled out his wand. "Let me see that."   
  
She shook her head. "Charlie," she said.   
  
"He's fine. He's got to stun her a bit, slow her down so when the dragon restraint team gets here, she'll won't have gone far."   
  
Hermione looked up at the sky nervously, where Charlie and Ella had disappeared behind a hilltop, and Draco paused with one hand on her knee, following her line of sight.   
  
The sudden pop of a dozen Apparitions at once made them jump, and suddenly the dragon restraint team was there, all around them, along with medics and stretchers. A severe-looking witch in a long red and orange robe was barking orders at the team, who took off flying in formation in the direction Charlie and the dragon had gone.   
  
Hermione felt as though her heart stopped beating entirely for the next minute. And it wasn't until Charlie finally appeared from behind the hill that her chest fluttered back to life. She exhaled and Draco rose to his feet.   
  
Charlie landed with a skid, panting hard, and set the broomstick down. "They got her," he said. "She's out like a light. And safe. She'll be safe now."   
  
Draco threw his arms around Charlie, hugged him fiercely as he clapped Charlie's back. To anyone else it was probably quite innocuous, but knowing Draco as she had come to know him over the last few weeks, Hermione understood how much Draco was saying without words. Charlie's emotions, on the other hand, were written all over his face. He grinned brightly as he hurried to her side, his brow furrowing when he saw the state of her legs.  
  
"S'my fault," said Charlie. "Again. God, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I should've never put you two in that kind of danger."   
  
"Before you drown entirely in self-pity," said Draco, "you should know that we followed you willingly, Charlie."  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, and she looked up at the medic, waving her off with a shake of her head. "I'm fully responsible for my own actions."   
  
Draco was glaring after the medic as she walked away. "It's as if they don't even know who I am," he said.  
  
"She's from the Romanian sanctuary, Draco," said Charlie, snorting. "She doesn't."  
  
"That's no excuse," said Draco.   
  
Charlie was still smiling at Hermione. "That was amazing," he said. "She knew you, didn't she?"   
  
"I think... I know it sounds crazy... But I think she remembered. She remembered that I helped set her free."   
  
"I think you're right. You've opened up a whole new line of research, Hermione. No one's ever... done that before."  
  
"Never?" she said, surprised even though she'd never read about a similar case.   
  
"There are probably only a handful of recorded acts of human kindness toward dragons," said Charlie. "S'not like people rescue them from the goblins every day."   
  
"And you didn't even have to knit it a hat," said Draco.   
  
Hermione smiled tiredly and rested her head against Charlie's shoulder. "So," she said with a sigh, "back to Shell Cottage then? I'm sure the Ministry paperwork will keep for now."   
  
"I reckon that should be the plan," said Charlie. "Bill and Fleur'll probably want their house back when they're done with Egypt."   
  
"Right." Draco looked away.  
  
"We should... probably talk about this," said Charlie.   
  
"In the morning," Hermione said.   
  
"Yeah," said Charlie. "Definitely not tonight. Er, you want to be the one to Apparate us back to camp so we can pack up, Draco? I think we've had enough drama for today." He scooped up Hermione in his arms and stood.  
  
She laughed and slipped her arms around his neck. "I can walk just fine, you know."   
  
"I know," Charlie said, and he kissed her forehead. "Humor me, will you? First you go and practically rescue yourself, and then Draco gets to sweep you off your feet. Let me go home feeling just a little bit heroic."  
  
"Sounds like your ego took more damage than my knees," Hermione said. "All right. But once we're back at camp, I'm walking around like a regular person."   
  
"Of course you are," said Draco. "The two of you need to take down the tent. I put in my time setting up the blasted thing. Now shut up, both of you. It's time to go home."   


***

  
Charlie opened one eye when he heard Hermione walk into the bedroom, and Draco shifted against him, murmuring something in his sleep. Charlie shushed him gently and pulled him in, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other over his chest.   
  
"How did the interview go?" he asked in a whisper.  
  
"Excellent," Hermione whispered back. "I think they're excited about my research proposal. There are considerations, of course, and it won't be easy to find participants willing to stand face to face with a dragon, but I think we might really be onto something here. If these working dragons can be rehabilitated--"  


"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," Charlie said, watching as she began to undress. "One step at a time."   
  
She unzipped one boot and set it aside. "So glad Fleur let you keep those," he said.   
  
"She told me they were flattering," said Hermione. "You and Draco seemed to agree."   
  
"And how."  
  
She folded her blouse over a chair, then unhooked her bra and set it aside. Charlie's old Holyhead Harpies shirt, one that Ginny had given him, lay over the footboard, and she tugged it on before climbing into bed and sliding against his side.  
  
"So this is it?" he asked. "It only took six months of begging to get you to move out to Romania?"   
  
"I had Ministry obligations!" she said, resting her head on his chest. "Some of us don't get to stay in bed until noon."   
  
"Benefits of being the boss," said Charlie. "I get to pick my own off day. And Draco's only been home for two hours. He was on call at the clinic all night."   
  
"Mmm," she said. "Well, I hope he gets some decent rest. I'm rather in the mood for celebrating today."   
  
"He'll get some decent rest," Draco said without opening his eyes, "if the two of you will stop blathering on whilst he's trying to sleep."   
  
"He's grumpy when he works the night shift," said Charlie, and he kissed the tip of her nose.   
  
"He's grumpy when he doesn't," Hermione said.  
  
"Grumpy doesn't begin to describe my current state of being."   
  
Charlie turned his head and silenced Draco with a kiss. "We'll get up and leave you to sleep."   
  
"No." Draco clamped an arm over Charlie's chest, his fingers closing over Hermione's wrist to hold her there. "Stay here. With me. Don't want to sleep alone."   
  
"All right, love," Charlie said, and he kissed Draco again. "We'll stay." He leaned over to Hermione and murmured, "High maintenance, this one."   
  
She smiled and nestled her head against Charlie's shoulder.   
  
"Heard that," Draco said, rubbing his thumb over Hermione's wrist in circles that grew slower and slower as he started to doze again.   
  
Charlie grinned to himself and snuggled down. It wasn't perfect, not yet. But he had a feeling that maybe someday, it could be.  


[END]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this wonderful story! And for anyone who may not have seen the author's note at the beginning this is not my story it was written FOR me by the fantastic rillalicious! Who was sweet enough to let me share it with you all.


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